Beyond Remedy
by 666-Nightmare Child-666
Summary: Six teenagers, all of them diagnosed with a certain phobia. They check into a speacial institute within a deserted hospital. And the methodes of cure are deadly. YAOI! Style with a little bit of Creek.
1. Fear

Okay, first of all, this fanfic is based heavily on the movie 'Beyond Remedy.' If you saw the movie, you know what i'm trying to get at with the story.

Second, i _know _this first chapter seems a little rushed, but that's because i was never good with first chapters. I promise you, the next ones will be better!

Third, i hope you enjoy it! Review if you'd like and thanks for reading! :D

* * *

"What is fear?" A hoarse voice echoed against the small, white-clad room.

A tall, old man stood in the front of the room. His hands were behind his back, a folder held between them. He faced the people in the chairs. There were six of them, each fiddling nervously.

"Fear is a distressing emotion caused by approaching danger, evil, or pain." He dropped the folder on his desk beside him. Papers slide out, each showing names and pictures of the six teenagers in front of him.

"Each of you have a fear. Not only a fear, but a phobia. You're so scared that it has messed with your daily life. Every other institute has failed to cure you. And that's why you are here. My name is Dr. Cole"

Dr. Cole walked forward, closer to the teens. "You all know each other. You are either a friend or an enemy with the person next to you. That's good. That means each of you can sympathize with each other without being uncomfortable. And you mostly likely already know what the other's fear is."

He picked up the file again. "I already know everyone's fear. But, I need a face to match the name. So, starting with the redheaded gentleman, we'll go down the line. You will tell your name and fear." He nodded at the redhead.

"Kyle Broflovski." He spoke up. "I have Aichmophobia. I'm afraid of sharp objects."

The old man nodded. "Like what, Mr. Broflovski."

Kyle absentmindedly rubbed a scar on his hand. "Knives, scalpels, razors, needles, stuff like that."

Dr. Cole nodded. "Very good. Next."

The next boy sighed. "Stan Marsh. Batophobia, fear of heights."

He nodded and looked at the next boy, who was twitching and shivering in his seat.

"Gah! Uh, Tweek Tweak!" He nearly yelled.

"Ah, yes." Dr. Cole said, remembering the teen perfectly. "The paranoid, highly-caffeinated boy. What are you afraid of?"

"Oh, Jesus. Gah! I'm a-afraid of everything! I think they call i-it Panophobia! Gah!" Tweek yelled, pulling his hair.

"Okay, that's valid." Dr. Cole said, looking to the next teenager.

"Craig Tucker." He said in a monotone, nasally voice. "Eisoptrophobia. I'm afraid of mirrors, or looking into them."

The doctor nodded, trying to ignore the fact that the boy just flipped him off.

"Oh, hello. I'm Butters." The next boy said enthusiastically.

Dr. Cole blinked. "And what is your fear, young man."

"Achluophobia, fear of the dark." Butters said as he kneaded his hands together. "Well, I'm also scared of getting into trouble. But, that's not why I'm here. I just need to behave myself."

"Okay, next." The doctor said before the boy could talk anymore.

"Kenny McCormick. I have Thanatophobia, fear of dying or death." The teen mumbled, tugging on his hood to cover more of his face.

Dr. Cole nodded and threw the files back on the desk. "You are all here to overcome your fears. There are many ways to do that. You can face your fear by living or exposing yourself to it. You can stop thinking about the fear and more about how stupid is. You can let out different emotions, other than fear. We will be using the first one."

The six teen exchanged looks.

"Seven days. In seven days, you all will overcome your fears with tests and drills. Each one of you at some point will confront their fears. Sometimes the test will be unexpected and happen randomly. Other times, you will be informed."

Dr. Cole walked over to the door in the back of the room. "This hospital is empty, except for the eight of us. Me, you six, and Dr. Lee. He monitors things so we know you did the task we assigned you."

He pointed to the upper right hand corner of the wall. There was a surveillance camera pointing down on them.

"There are cameras everywhere. Except the bathrooms, of course. They are in your rooms and in the halls."

He opened the door. "You all are sharing a room with your assigned partner. Your rooms are all beside each other, in the same hall. Starting tomorrow, we will begin the tests. Go to your rooms and get some sleep."

* * *

The six walked through the halls, heading to the elevator.

"Thinks this will actually work?" Stan asked.

Kenny took a drag of his cigarette, eyeing the white hospital around him. "It better. I had to pay money for this."

"But this was free." Kyle smirked, looking back at the orange clad boy.

"Not the bus!" He protested.

"The bus was a dollar." Craig replied blandly.

"So."

Stan chuckled and went into his own conversation with Kyle. Tweek twitched and stood closer to Craig.

"Gah! Is there coffee here." He mumbled shyly, tapping his fingers on the thermos in his hands.

Craig nodded. "Yeah, I checked. There was a coffee maker _and _grounds. You're all set."

The twitching boy nodded. "T-Thank you. Ahh!"

"No problem."

They finally reached the elevator. Kenny put out his cigarette and shoved it back into the pack. Then, he walked into the elevator. Tweek paused outside the doors as everyone got in.

"Come on, Tweek." Kyle urged, holding the doors open.

Tweek shook his head. "No, it's good. I'll j-just take the -gah- stairs."

"What's wrong?" Stan asked, getting a little impatient.

"Elevators scare me! Gah! Besides, stairs are quicker!"

He turned to the door that led to the stairwell. But just as he opened the door, somebody caught his wrist and pulled him into the elevator.

"Gah! No!" Tweek screamed.

Craig let go of his wrist. "It's just one floor, you'll be fine."

"Besides, this is just what you need. The doctor said we need to face our fears." Kyle said, pressing the five.

The doors closed slowly. Tweek gulp, clutching his thermos harder. Once the elevator started moving, his stomach clenched. He was suddenly dizzy and he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Are you okay, Tweek?" Craig asked. His face was neutral, but in his eyes was concern.

Everyone looked back at him. That only made him more afraid. His palms started to sweat and he was now panting.

He shook his head, twitching even more than before. "N-no! I -nngh- I need to get out of here."

He tried to run for the doors, but Craig caught him just in time. "Calm down, Tweek. We're almost there."

A thousands thoughts ran the young boys head. Most of them beginning or ending with "What if this happens?" and "I could die!". Kyle patted his back encouragingly, smiling down at him.

The elevator suddenly stopped, make a loud sounds.

Craig looked down at him. "See, I told you."

They all gave a small smile at Tweek. They waited for the doors to open, but that never happened.

"Gah! W-Why aren't the doors opening?" Tweek yelled. "What's wrong with them! Ahh!"

Stan squeezed passed the paranoid boy. "Hang on."

He went to the elevator doors and slowly pried them open. Instead of the hallway outside being right in front of them, there was only a small fraction. The elevator had stopped half way between the floors, so only the top of the elevator had the opening.

"Fuck." Stan said, prying the rest of the doors open.

"Oh, Jesus! No! That is not cool, man! W-What the fuck!" Tweek screamed.

"Calm down, Tweek!" Kyle yelled, facing the boy.

"No! Let me out!"

Tweek suddenly ran towards the opening of the elevator doors. This time, Stan caught him and shoved him against the back wall. Tweek slide to the ground, pulling his hair and shutting his eyes tightly.

The lights flickered, causing two screams. One from the already freaked out Tweek, and the other from Butters. He started shaking and threw himself backwards, into Kenny.

Kenny held his shoulders. "It's okay, Butters. The lights only flickered."

They kept going on and off, until they stopped automatically. Tweek and Butters screamed again.

"No! Anything but that!" Butters yelled, turning around and hiding his face in Kenny's parka. "Please, not that!"

"Relax, Butters!" He said, rubbing the shivering boys back.

A few seconds later, the lights flickered back on and the elevator jerked, making Tweek shriek. The doors shut suddenly, almost causing Stan's fingers to get trapped within them.

Everything was deathly silent as the elevator started moving again. Butters slowly pulled himself away from Kenny, apologizing for his fear. Craig gently pulled Tweek off the floor.

"Are you okay?" He asked, colorlessly.

Tweek twitched, nodding. Both him and Butters were both panting, trying to retrieve the breath they had lost.

There was a loud _ding _and the elevator's doors slowly opened. There was a man standing outside. He was wearing the same white lab coat as Dr. Cole. His black hair was pulled back into a small ponytail.

Tweek was the first to get out of the elevator, by running, followed by Butters ad the rest.

The man smiled. "Test one, complete."

The all stared at the man. Craig flipped him off angrily while Tweek screamed.

"T-That was just a test?"

"You son of a bitch." Craig said, grabbing him by his shirt.

"Dude, calm down." Stan said, pulling him off the doctor.

Craig clenched his fist. It was rare that he ever got angry, so everyone was glanced at each other nervously.

"That's how your sessions will be, Mr. Tucker. Same as all of yours." He kept that smile on his face. "Tomorrow we will start with you, Mr. Broflovski."

Everyone looked at Kyle, who was rubbing the scar on his hand the whole time.

"Goodnight." Dr. Lee said, walking away.

Craig finally relaxed his hands, sighing to calm himself. He grabbed Tweek's wrist, pulling him forward.

"Come on Tweek." He said, walking down the hall.

They watched him go before Kenny urged Butters forward.

"Let's go, dude." He said, walking beside him.

Kyle and Stan exchanged looks before walking forward also.

* * *

**In Stan's room.**

"Dude, there's television!" Stan yelled as he flopped down on the hospital bed he choose was his.

The room was just like a hospital. There were two beds, both facing the TV that was hooked up to the wall. There was a huge window, facing the woods below it. There was a nightstand between the two beds, on it was an alarm clock and a phone. There was a door beside the window that led to the bathroom.

Kyle smirked at his best friend, dropping his suit case. "Of course there is. It is a hospital, after all."

"A deserted one." Stan replied, flipping through the channels.

Kyle sat down on the bed closer to the window. Stan had refused to even go close to the window. In fear of seeing how far up they were; even though they were only on the fifth floor.

"I wonder why there's no one here. This hospital is perfectly good. They still have equipment and everything." He sat, pulling out a book from his bag.

Stan shrugged and smirked. "Maybe there was a mass murderer who roamed the halls and killed everyone."

Kyle rolled his eyes, smirking. "And their souls still haunt the halls, killing anyone who dares come in."

Stan laughed. "Maybe."

Kyle scoffed and looked back down at the book in his hands.

* * *

**In Kenny's room**

"Wow. I never slept on a _real _bed before." Kenny said snuggling into the hospital bed.

Butters nodded nervously, placing his bag on the floor. He played with his hands absentmindedly. Kenny raised an eyebrow at him.

"You okay?" He asked.

Butters gulped. "Well, I ,uh… Oh hamburgers."

"What is it?" The dirty blonde asked, sitting up.

"I…" He sighed. "I need a nightlight to sleep."

He closed his eyes, waiting for Kenny to start laughing or screaming. But instead, Kenny said. "That's fine."

Butters looked up in disbelief. "W-What?"

"You heard me. It's fine. I don't give a fuck if you need a nightlight or not."

"Really?" He smiled. "I thought you'd yell at me."

"I'm not your parents, Butters, I won't ground you because you're scared. Eventually, you won't even need the light. But for now, I'm not stopping you."

"Thanks." He whispered.

Kenny chuckled. "Besides, I need some light for reading my playboy."

"What?"

"Kidding, kidding… Maybe." He smirked.

Butters shook his head. "That's gross."

"What? I'm Kenny, God of sex! Don't tell me you didn't expect this."

"No, no. I did. It's still gross."

"You haven't ever seen porn, have you?" Kenny smirked.

Butters blushed and looked away. "I'm _not _having this conversation."

Kenny smiled at the boy's embarrassment. "Alright. But you really should see it. Those girls have really big b-"

"I'm not listening!" Butters cried as he cupped his ears.

Kenny chuckled.

* * *

**In Craig's room**.

"Are you okay?" He asked the shacking blonde next to him.

The boy shook his head, pulling his hair tightly. "Gah! I was so s-scared!"

"I know, I know. That was totally gay." He said blandly.

Tweek nodded, curling up in a ball in his bed. Craig was sitting on his bed, staring at the paranoid blonde.

"Are you alight enough to sleep?" He asked.

"I-I never sleep!"

Craig blinked. "You're insomniac? Fuck."

"W-What do you -ahh- mean 'fuck'?"

"Well, I can't sleep knowing that you are going to be freaked out over everything after I'm asleep."

"D-Don't worry. Gah! I'll be quiet." He mumbled, sipping his cold coffee.

"That's not the point." Craig said, realizing that talking was calming down the blonde.

"Ahh! Then what is?"

"Never in my life could I sleep, knowing someone close to me is suffering. My sister is a good example."

"Y-Your sister?"

"Ruby. She always had these horrible headaches when she was younger. Our parents didn't give a shit and told her to go to bed. I couldn't sleep until I knew she was feeling better." He explained.

Tweek nodded. He was finally down to his regular amount of twitches. "I'll be fine, seriously. This is normal."

"Doesn't matter." Craig said monotonously. "Either you go to sleep, or I'll never sleep."

"Gah! That's WAY to much pressure, man!" He yelled, pulling his hair.

Craig gave him a rare small smile.


	2. Hallucinations

__

"Kyle! Come on!" Ike yelled, rounding corner of the pool.

_"Ike! Don't run! You'll fall!" Kyle said, jogging to catch up with him._

_It was a pool party for Kyle's fifteen birthday. Right now, everyone was inside, watching a football game that was on. Ike was running to get into the house to give Kyle his present. The pavement around the pool was wet and slippery. On that watery floor, there was a table of food right beside it. There was only cut cake and chips on it now. _

_Ike looked back at his brother, laughing. "Don't be ridiculous! You're the clumsy one!"_

_"Not true!" Kyle yelled, laughing. "Just stop running, dude!"_

_"No way! I need to show you your birthday present!"_

_"You can show it too me without running! Jesus, kid, you sure are stupid!"_

_"Hey!"_

_Kyle laughed. _

_Ike rounded another pool corner, the one closest to the food table. Suddenly, his foot slipped on a particularly wet corned. Instead of falling inward, towards the pull, he slipped backwards. Right under the food table._

_His foot hit the leg of table. It shook, threatening to fall on top of the small boy. The leg was broken from the force, a thin layer of wood connected the two. The only thing holding it up was Ike's foot._

_"Ike!" Kyle called, catching up to the boy. He grabbed the younger boy's hand. "Are you okay?"_

_"Yeah. I think my leg is bleeding, though. Fuck."_

_Kyle chuckled, beginning pulling the boy up. But once Ike's foot left the leg, it broke completely. The table fell on Ike, who was half way up from standing. Kyle blinked in shock as he dropped the boy from surprise._

_A knife, covered in icing from the cake, slide off the overturn table. It pierced right into Ike. Not enough to kill him, but it stuck out of him. Not even a second later, the cake fell on top of the knife. The weight from the cardboard under it was enough to drive the knife deeper._

_Kyle stood there shock, watching as his younger brother coughed up blood. The knife had stabbed him a inch away from his heart. _

_"Ike?" Kyle whispered in disbelief as he fell to his knees. _

_He pushed the cake off of him and pulled out the knife. He was so panicked that he didn't see where he swung the knife and he didn't care. But suddenly there was a deep, bloody cut across his hands. It bled badly, but not as much as the blood that trailed down Ike's chest._

_It took Kyle a minute to recover from his shock._

_"Help!" He screamed, looking toward the house. "Somebody help!"_

_He looked back down at Ike. The color in his eyes was fading._

_"No! Help! Please, he's dying! Help! Somebody!" He yelled, tears running from his eyes._

_"Help!"_

* * *

"Help!"

"Kyle! Kyle, wake up!" Stan yelled at the thrashing boy.

The redheaded boy screamed again; a heart clenching scream full of terror and pain.

"Please!" Kyle yelled in his sleep.

Stan was standing in front of his bed, staring at his best friend. He was too scared to walk over to him because he was that close to the window.

"Kyle! Kyle wake up, damn it!" Stan yelled.

Suddenly, the Jew bolted up, sucking in air. He coughed and clenched his head between his hands. Stan allowed him to catch his voice before talking.

"Are you okay, dude?" Stan asked, looking at him with concern.

Kyle flinched and looked over at Stan. He ignored the question and looked back at his hand. There was no cut, no blood. Just a deep ugly scar.

He feel back on the bed, sighing. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his pajama sleeve.

"Sorry for waking you, Stan." Kyle said, sadly. His voice was hoarse from screaming.

"Are you okay?" Stan repeated.

He nodded. "Yeah, just a nightmare."

Kyle was used to this by now. The nightmare only made him depressed once he woke up. He just looked out the window, avoiding Stan's worried look. _I wish it was only a nightmare. _He thought sourly.

* * *

They all met in the lounge at eight a.m. They had already planned before they came, that they would all met and eat breakfast at eight o'clock sharp.

Tweek already made coffee before Kyle and Stan had shown up. When they walked in, they were greeted with a large mug of said drink. Tweek was now pouring a cup for himself.

Butters was making the pancakes he brought on the oven. Kenny was leaning over him, asking him occasionally with stupid question. This didn't bother Butters, though. Craig was leaning on the counter beside Tweek. Stan was sitting a the small table, sipping his coffee. Kyle was sitting at the table also, his hat was off and his hand clutching the red curls underneath.

"What's wrong, Kyle?" Butters asked, handing him a plate of pancakes. "Are you worried about your session today?"

The Jew shook his head, looking up. "It's nothing."

Kenny pulled him into a tight hug, a perverted smile across his face. "Come on, babe. Tell Uncle Kenny what's up!"

"Knock it off, dude." Stan spoke up.

Kenny pouted but dropped Kyle, who was glaring at the pervert.

"What happened to him?" Craig asked Stan. He wasn't really interested in the Jew's problem, but he hated not knowing something.

Stan looked at Kyle. Kyle nodded, signaling that it was okay to tell them if he wanted.

"Kyle had a nightmare." Stan answered, shrugging.

"So? I have nightmares all the time." Craig said, sipping his coffee.

"It was about my brother." Kyle growled, solemnly.

Everything went silent, all knowing exactly what he meant.

"Well, gee whiz, Kyle. A-Are you okay?" Butters asked, kneading his hands together.

Kyle nodded. "I'm fine."

"Gah! Are you sure? W-We should tell Dr. Cole to postpone your session. Ahh!" Tweek offered.

Kyle shook his head, looking up. "No, it's okay. Maybe this will help me."

Butters nodded.

There was a loud beep, which made Tweek scream, followed by a little static.

"Good morning, students." A voice said over an announcement. "Today's session will be for Kyle Broflovski. Everyone meet at the operating theatre on the first floor in one minute. Good day."

The announcement ending with everyone looking at Kyle. He pulled on his hat, sighed, and stood up.

"Let's go." He stated, walking out the door.

* * *

"Fear is just in your head." Dr. Lee said.

Everyone was staring down a body on the operating table. It was a boy, not even fifteen, and he was dead. Kyle stood across from Dr. Lee, trying to keep his fear down. Everyone else was around the body, switching glances between Kyle and the doctor.

"You all are afraid of something because of something tragic that has occurred. As humans, we need to separate reality from what isn't."

Dr. Lee looked over at the Jew. "Kyle, roll up your sleeves please."

The teen swallowed and pulled up the sleeve on the lab coat that everyone had to wear. Dr. Lee grabbed an electrode pad and placed it on his inner elbow, directly above a vein.

A steady beeping sound came from the heart monitor that electrode hooked up to. The doctor smiled at Kyle and went back to his place on the other side of the body.

"You will slice on the dotted line." Dr. Lee said as if he was talking to a kindergartener. He pulled the blanket on the body down farther until the marker on the boys skin was noticeable. It was just above the heart, right where the knife hit Ike two years ago.

The beeping from the monitor sped up a little as Kyle remembered the death of his younger brother.

Dr. Lee pointed to a table behind him. On the table was a tray, with only one object in it. A scalpel. Kyle's heart clenched as he slowly walked towards the table. He looked back at the doctor, who nodded encouragingly.

His heart beat slowly sped up as he reached for the blade. Images of Ike, covered in blood and knife sticking from his chest ran through Kyle's mind.

He felt a wave a dizziness roll over him as he slowly picked up the scalpel. His heart rate rose once again. He gulped and turned back around to the body. His motions slowed down as he stepped closer to it. He distracted himself with other thoughts, letting his body take control.

Hesitatively, he placed the blade of the scalpel on the start of the dotted line. He tried to seem calm, but his heart beat betrayed him and went even faster than before.

The teens around him slowly leaned in, interested in how this will go. Kyle's hands were shacking and he was panting behind the mask around his mouth. His chest constricted tightly, suffocating him. He felt hot and cold at the same time; his arms had goose bumps, yet he was sweating.

He looked up at the patience face. The boy's eyes were opened wide. They were cold and colorless. Kyle gasped and looked again. The boy still had his eyes closed; he as dead as dead could be. Kyle's heart rate was incredibly fast. He was on the verge of hyperventilating.

His hand went along with his fear and he threw the scalpel onto the floor. Everyone stared at him curiously. He pulled the mask down, inhaling the air quickly. He felt so lightheaded that he almost fell, only to be caught by Stan. Kyle ran his fingers threw his hair, clutching the friend that held him up.

"I can't do it." He growled, panting.

"Your fear took control." A different voice said.

Everyone turned to the doorway, where Dr. Cole stood.

"You're afraid to, aren't you?"

"No fuck." Kyle mumbled, ripping the electrode from his arm.

"If this person was alive, they'd be dead. And their blood would be on your hands." He responded, ignoring Kyle's rudeness.

"I already have blood on my hands." He whispered, laughing lightly. He smiled, looking down with dead eyes at the boy on the table.

Dr. Cole nodded, looking disappointed. "That concludes the first session. You have the rest of the night to do whatever."

* * *

Kyle sat alone in his room. He hugged his legs and rested his chin on his knee. He glanced around at the can of Pepsi he brought up with his. It was sitting in a puddle of blood.

He closed his eyes tightly and looked back. There was no blood, just a regular can of soda. He sighed. The hallucinations were coming back. They had stopped a year ago, but now they were back.

"Fuck." He growled, running his hand through his hair.

A knock at the door made him flinched.

"Kyle? Gah!" Tweek said from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"

Kyle sighed. "It's open."

Tweek opened the door, his eyes resting on the teen on the bed. He walked in slowly.

"A-Are you okay?" He asked, sipping coffee from his thermos.

He nodded emotionlessly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nauseous."

Tweek closed the door and sat beside him on the bed. "D-Do you think you can finish this. Gah!"

He sighed. "I don't know, Tweek. This is so fucked up."

He nodded. "I know. Nngh. But you're strong, you can do it."

Kyle smiled, yet it was fake. He was too distracted and scared to feel pride.

"Anyway, I was suppose to get you for lunch. Ngh. You've been up here for three hours."

Kyle nodded. "I'll be down soon. Go on without me."

Tweek smiled and headed towards the door.

After a few minutes, Kyle pulled himself out of the bed and walked out the door.

The only noise in the hallway was his sneaker on the floor. He stared straight ahead, trying to keep his fears out of his head. But the thoughts of his bloody, dead brother kept inching their way into his thoughts. He stopped and closed his eyes.

_Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, _It was an old trick to keep fear away, taught to him by his therapist. _Five, four, three, two, one._

He opened his eyes on one. But instead of his fears going away, he faced them again.

Standing at the end of the hall was his brother. The same image he saw as he picked up the scalpel earlier. He was still in his light blue swimming trucks, the lining was soaked with blood. Sticking out of Ike's chest was the same knife, covered in blood and frosting. His eyes were empty, soulless.

Kyle closed his eyes tightly. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one." He said quickly.

He opened his eyes. Ike was gone. He sighed, smiling slightly.

Suddenly, a pair of small, blood splattered arms wrapped around his torso. Kyle's heart skipped a beat and he screamed loudly. He tore himself away from the arms and ran down the hallway.

There was blood everyway; dripping from the walls and on his body. There were screams echoing off the walls, piercing his ears. Tears ran down his cheeks as he tried to run away from his fear.

He was so cold, as if he was in the snow, yet he was sweating. His legs were numb. He felt as if he was running on a treadmill because he couldn't run fast enough to get away. He wasn't going anywhere. His brother was right behind him, reaching towards him slowly.

"No!" He screamed. "Please!"

He picked up the pace. His chest hurt and he felt like he was being confined. There was no air around him, only a suffocating fire full of the metallic smell of blood.

He stopped at the end of the hall, quickly debating which of the two new ones he would go down. Suddenly, the arms were there again, ruining any chance of escape.

He trashed around anyway. "No! Please, no! I'm sorry! Let me go! Please!"

"Kyle!" A voice yelled.

He screamed once more, trying to escape the arms that restrained him.

"Kyle! It's Stan! Calm down, dude!" The voice yelled once more.

He automatically stopped thrashing around. "S-Stan?"

He slowly turned around, more tears running from his eyes. Stan stared down at him with concern and shock.

"Are you okay?" He asked, wide-eyed.

Kyle suddenly hugged Stan tightly, crying loudly. Stan tensed a little before he slowly put his arms around Kyle. He rubbed his back, trying to calm Kyle down.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here now." Stan cooed, holding him tighter. "It's okay, calm down."

Kyle sucked in a breath. "Fuck! I'm s-so weak." He said between his sobs.

"No you're not, come on. Eventually we are all going to face our fears. I agree that what that doctor did was a little over the edge. He placed all your fears in front of you. But this is how you'll overcome it. You were strong enough to pick up the scalpel, right?"

He sniffed. "Yeah."

"See? You're already improving. Yesterday, you wouldn't go anywhere near a blade. You're strong."

Kyle swallowed. "I-I keep seeing him."

"Ike?" Stan asked, still rubbing Kyle's back.

He nodded. "Do you believe in ghosts, Stan?"

"Uh, do I believe in what?"

"Ghost, spirits. You know, the image of a person that-" He offered.

"I know what ghosts are, Kyle." he growled. "You just caught me off guard. And no, I don't believe in them. They don't exist, they are just in your head."

Kyle nodded and seemed to relax a little. Stan sighed and pulled him off him. He blinked and looked confused.

Stan smiled down at him and pushed him forward. "Let's go back to the room. You look like you need to lay down."

Kyle's confused expression melted into a small smile. "Okay."


	3. Bloody Jeans

This chapter has no relevance to 'Beyond Remedy' whatsoever! I came up with the unfairness of this situation! Hope you enjoy! ;D

* * *

Stan sat in his bed, Kyle curled up against him. He fell asleep in the elevator, so Stan had to carry him into the room. About a minute later after laying Kyle down to sleep, the redhead unconsciously walked over to his bed and snuggled against him. So now, Stan was watching TV with a sleeping Jew cuddled on him.

There was suddenly a knock at the door. Stan blinked.

"It's open." He called softly, trying not to wake Kyle.

Kenny walked into the room, smirking at sight in front of him.

"Well, well, well." He teased. "How long have you two been going at it?"

"Shut up, Kenny."

Kenny automatically felt the tension and seriousness in his friend's voice. "What's the matter?"

Stan sighed, debating on whether to tell him. "Kyle had a total panic attack."

Kenny blinked, sitting down on the chair beside his bed. "Are you sure? What happened?"

"I found him screaming down the hallway. He was sweating and looked nauseous. I grabbed him when I got the chance and he kept screaming and trashing around. And then, he totally broke down. It wasn't like him! He never cries in front of us." Stan ended up yelling the last sentence.

"Well, is he okay now?" Kenny asked concerned, looking down at his unconscious friend.

Stan nodded. "Yeah, but he said he keeps seeing Ike."

"Ike?"

"Yeah. I think that session really fucked him up." He said, reflexively rubbing his hand on Kyle's back.

"It was a little bit over the extreme. I mean, he placed a young child, who looked almost exactly like Ike, made him cut _exactly _where Ike got stabbed!"

Stan nodded, looking down at Kyle. "I wonder if this will help or hurt him in the end."

Kenny smiled. "I'm pretty sure after this, we'll all look back and laugh about how stupid we were."

He ruffled Stan's hair and stood up. "Session tomorrow is me."

Stan looked up. "What will they have you do?"

Kenny shrugged. "I have no idea. It looks like it will be random like Kyle's."

He smirked and walked out of the room. Stan sighed and looked back down at Kyle. He slowly took off Kyle's hat and pushed his fingers into the red hair.

"We better hope this works." He sighed, closing his eyes.

* * *

Kenny walked back to his room, trying to swallow his worry. Kyle's session was starting to get to him. The two doctors overdid it when he laid all his fears in front of him. He could only imagine what his session would be.

"Kenny!" Someone called from behind.

He blinked and looked over his shoulder. Craig ran up to him, face as emotionless as always. His eyes, though, were full of panic.

"Have you seen Tweek anywhere?" He asked.

Kenny shook his head. "I haven't seen him since he went to get Kyle. Why, did he not come back?"

"Yeah. I checked the room and everything. I can't find him."

"Did you check the lounge? Maybe he went to get more coffee."

Craig sighed. "Maybe."

"Knowing Tweek, he probably got scared and ran off somewhere. You know how he is. He'll show up eventually." Kenny said, smiling.

"Maybe. I'm going to check our room again."

Craig jogged down the hall towards the elevator.

"I'll keep a look out for him!" Kenny called after him.

He waved back before rounded the corner. Alone, Kenny pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his teeth. Just as he was about to light it, there was a huge boom. As if something heavy just fell from upstairs.

He looked up above him just as the lights started flickering. His face was blank, but he felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn't scared of the dark or loud noises, but he started thinking about his session. It wasn't until tomorrow, but what if they were testing him now.

The lights went out completely after a little while. It was completely dark. Not the dark you have in your room where after a while your eyes would adjust. It was the kind of dark that you couldn't even see your hand in front of your face.

"Fuck." He growled as he tried to light his lighter.

The tiny flame didn't give him as much light as he would have hoped, but it was better than pitch black. He walked steadily down the hall, trying to find something solid.

In front of him, he heard the echo of footsteps. It was farther down the hallway, where Craig ran. The footsteps were heavy and loud, as if the person was wearing military boots. No one he knew, not even the doctors had boots.

"Hello?" He called, pointed the lighter in the direction of the walking person.

The footsteps continued on as if they hadn't heard him. Soon, they faded as the person walked away from Kenny, down the other hall.

"What a dick." Kenny growled, turning around to find his way back to his room.

But as soon as he turned around, he ran into something strong and solid. He fell to the ground, dropping his lighter. Kenny glared and rubbed his butt.

"Fuck, that hurt my ass." He growled, reaching forward and touching the floor all around to find where his lighter had fallen.

Instead, his hand came to rest on something else. It was rough and rigid, and felt as if there was dirt on it. It felt like the tip of shoe, but it wasn't a sneaker, like everyone had on.

_A boot? _Kenny's heart sped up. They were definatly not sneaker. He could tell because where his hand was would be where the end of the ties were. There wasn't even shoelaces.

He quickly pulled his hand back, searching for his light with the other. When his fingers finally grasped around the small object, he held it up farther and lit it.

Once he saw, he actually dropped the lighter again. In front of him were a pair of legs. The pants they had on were white, another thing that no one in the whole hospital wore. But that's not what shocked him the most.

It was the fact that these pants had splatter red liquid on them. They were stained all the way down, even on his brown boots. Most of it was dried and blackish. But he noted with horror that there was also new, glistening red near his knees.

Kenny automatically jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he could the other way. He didn't care that he was bumping into stray hospital beds and walls. He didn't care that he had no idea where the fuck he was running, and he could probably hurt himself on something.

The only thing he did care about was getting away from the mysterious guy with red liquid splattered on his jeans.

* * *

"I'm telling you guys, we're not alone in the hospital!" Kenny yelled.

The lights had turned on around fifteen minutes later and he had ran back to his room. After soothing a panicking Butters, they fell asleep. Now it was eight, and he was telling everyone about the guy at breakfast.

"Are you sure you weren't hallucinating? That usually happens when your scared." Stan said, his eyes flickering over Kyle.

"I wasn't scared until I saw the guy!" Kenny growled.

"It could have just been Mr. Lee messing with you." Kyle spoke up, his voice still hoarse.

"Okay, let's say that there was a guy, and he wasn't either of the doctors. What are you going to do about it?" Craig piped up, swallowing down his eggs.

"I don't know, but aren't you guys at least a little concerned that there might be another person here?"

They all shook there heads, except Butters.

"No one really believe you enough to be concerned. Unless it's for what's going on in that fucked up little mind of yours." Craig said bluntly, flipping of the orange-clad boy off.

Kenny groaned. "But I'm serious! There's something going on here that we don't know about."

"D-Don't worry, Kenny. I believe you." Butters spoke up, smiling sweetly.

"Exactly!" he threw his hands up in exasperation.

Stan smirked at him before going into his own conversation with Kyle. Craig threw away his uneaten food and threw his plate in the sink. Then, he walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Kenny asked him.

"I'm going to look for Tweek again." He answered, flipping him off behind his shoulder. "I'm not showing up for your session."

He nodded, to busy thinking to care. He looked back at Butters, who was nervously kneading his hands together.

"What?" Kenny asked.

"Where's Tweek?"

Kenny sighed. "He went missing last night. We haven't seen him since he went up to ask Kyle for lunch."

"Wait, Tweek's missing?" Stan asked, turning towards the other two.

He nodded. "Craig's been looking for him since I left your room yesterday."

"I told Tweek to go on ahead to lunch." Kyle said, rubbing the scar on his hand. "He didn't show up?"

"Nope." Kenny answered.

"Did Tweek look okay when he left?" Stan asked his friend.

Kyle nodded. "Yeah. He was the same as usual."

"Oh no." Butters whispered. "What if that man got him?"

Kenny head snapped over to Butters. "W-What?"

Butters played his fingers. "W-Well what if the guy you were talking about got him. You did say he had new and old of that red liquid. W-What if it was Tweek's blood?"

Kenny's heart skipped a beat in realization of the fact. He never pieced the two together.

"Butters, don't believe Kenny's ridiculous story just because you're afraid." Stan smirked.

"It's not ridiculous!" He yelled. "I _swear _to you that I saw a person! And he-"

Kenny was cut off by a loud beep. He crossed his arms, listening to the announcement.

"Good morning. This is second day at the Wahnsinn Institute. Today's session is Kenneth McCormick. All of you meet at room 506 at 9 o'clock. Leopold Stotch, meet us there right now." The announcement said.

"Oh, oh alright then." Butters said, slowly standing up.

He nervously played with his fingers as he walked out the door. Kenny watched him, confused.

"Why do they want Butters there early?" He asked, mostly to himself.

"I don't know, dude." Stan said, still eating his breakfast.

Kenny turned back around and looked at them across the table. Kyle had bags under his eyes and he was looking around nervously, as if he was waiting for something pop out and grab him.

"You okay, Kyle?" Kenny asked.

Kyle blinked and looked up, but didn't meet his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired.

He could tell the Jew was lying by the way he said it. His voice guilty and strained.

Stan looked at his best friend sadly before sighing and eating the rest of his breakfast.

The three friends walked to room 506 together. Dr. Lee was standing outside of the room, smiling as always. He looked over at Kyle.

"How are you today?" He asked him.

Kyle glared, but didn't say a word. The doctor nodded, knowingly. Then, he looked over at Kenny.

"Alright, Kenneth. Follow me into the room. Kyle, Stanley, you two stay outside." He said, opening the door.

Kenny looked back at the two before walking forward and following the doctor. Kyle and Stan exchanged confused looks, then looked back at the door, just in time to see it close.

The doctor closed the door behind him. Kenny glared back at him before facing forward. He gasped at the sight in front of him.

"Butters!" He yelled.

Dr. Lee grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him from running to his friend. Butters was tied up with rope to a chair, sitting at a table. He had a cloth wrapped around his mouth and tears in his eyes. He was struggling to get free from the chair, but his hands were taped behind his back, making that impossible.

"Please, sit down, Mr. McCormick." The doctor said lowly, silently warning him not to touch Butters.

Kenny swallowed and sat down at the other end of the table, facing the distressed boy. Butters looked worried, scared, and pleading. He obviously knew what this test was about. That only made Kenny's heart pound more.

Dr. Lee walked up to the table. He unclasped his hands from behind his back. Then, he sat something heavy on the table. Kenny ripped his eyes away from Butters to see what it was.

His heart skipped a beat at the object.

It was a gun; revolver. The fact that there was a gun beside him made him shiver. He hasn't died since he was fifteen. That was also when he started fearing the concept of death. Whether it was pain or the fact that his friends never remember, he was afraid of it. A year later, he didn't do anything that would endanger his life. He hardly even came out of his room.

And right here, staring him in the face, was the weapon of death itself.

Dr. Lee smiled. "This is the ultimate test of courage. It's your life or your friend's."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Kenny screamed, fury mixing with the fear.

"Isn't it obviously?" He asked, picking up the gun.

He walked up to Butters, who had tears now running from his eyes. The doctor placed the barrel of the gun to Butters temple.

Kenny's heart drop. "What the hell are you doing?" All his anger was gone, leaving only raw fear and worry.

Dr. Lee placed his finger of the trigger.

"Wait, no! Don't fucking shoot him! Put the gun down!" Kenny yelled, slamming his fists down and standing up.

"Is that what you want?"

"YES!"

"Well, then prove it." Dr. Lee said.

Kenny stared at him. "What!"

The doctor put the gun in front of him. He flinched away from the weapon, falling down into his chair. He instantly forgot all about acting tough. But when you're this scared, you don't give a shit about reputation.

"You don't want this young boy to die, do you? You want him to live." Dr. Lee asked. "What are you willing to give up to ensure his safety. Are you willing to give up your life."

Kenny swallowed. "Yes."

He said this automatically. So many thoughts were racing through his head. So many, that he couldn't piece together what the doctor was saying.

"Exactly. So then prove it. Either you kill yourself, or he dies." The doctor smiled like a madman.

Kenny started to shake. "You, you fucking bastard."

He couldn't think straight anymore. His stomach churned weakly and his chest constricted. He felt as if the air around him suddenly grew heavier; his whole body ached with strain. His ears started ringing while his eyes dilated. He was cold and his face paled.

Kenny slowly reached out for the gun. His face was unemotional, but in his eyes showed the fear he was experiencing. Butters yelled something at him, though it was muffled by the cloth. Sweat rolled down Kenny's temple, though it went unnoticed, for his whole body was numb.

He was moving as slow as he could be as he raised the gun to his temple. It was shaking along with his hand as he dazedly put his finger on the trigger.

Butters shook his head fast, tears dripping onto the table. The yell he did was once again muffled by the cloth, though it sounded like 'no.'

Kenny's vision kept fading, then sharpening, and then fading once again. He couldn't focus on anything and his mind was blank. It took him a while until he finally realized the wetness on his cheeks were his tears.

Butters eyes pleaded him to stop, to kill him instead. But Kenny didn't the heart to do that. He had to swallow his fear, or kill his best friend. He couldn't allow himself to be so weak as to kill Butters.

So Kenny closed his eyes tightly and pulled the trigger.


	4. Newspaper Murderer

_Butters eyes pleaded him to stop, to kill him instead. But Kenny didn't the heart to do that. He had to swallow his fear, or kill his best friend. He couldn't allow himself to be so weak as to kill his best friend._

_So Kenny closed his eyes tightly and pulled the trigger._

* * *

_Click._

Kenny's eyes flew open with a gasp. There was no pain. No usual explosion of blood from his body. There was only silence and realization.

He quickly pulled the gun from his head, looking at it carefully. He swallowed and opened the gun's cylinder.

"T-There's no bullets." He said breathlessly.

There was a sudden loud clapping above him. Kenny looked to see that Dr. Lee had a smirk on his face as he clapped. Butters looked around his shoulder at the doctor with wide eyes. Then he switched his gaze back to Kenny, who threw the gun to the ground in anger.

He jumped on to his feet. "You fucking BASTARD!"

The doctor smiled. "What? Are you disappointed?"

Kenny shook with anger. "You don't just fuck with people like that!"

"Ah, but you did it didn't you." He said, calmly. "By putting this boy's life in front of your own, you overcame your fear."

"I thought he was going to die! Of fucking course I was going to shoot myself! Anyone with a fucking heart will!" He screamed loudly.

"But you overcame it. Don't look to deep into this scenario. Just look at what happened right now. You were afraid of death, yet you'd kill yourself in order to save this kid's life. That mean that this kid…" He tore off the ropes and cloth on Butters. "is the key to conquering your fear."

"Fuck you!" Kenny yelled, his voice cracking from anger. "Fuck you and your fucked up ways to teach us lessons. I didn't do it because I wasn't fucking scared. I did it because I was scared of _his _death more. Others dying still falls in the category of Thanatophobia. You didn't fucking help me. You made it worse!"

He reached over and grabbed Butters' wrist. Then, he pulled him to his feet, flipped Dr. Lee off, and stormed out the door.

"Kenny?" Stan called after him as he stormed down the hallway with Butters.

Butters looked back apologetically, still being pulled by Kenny. Once they were in the elevator, Kenny pull Butters into a sudden hug. The smaller boy gasp, shocked at the sudden touch. After a second, he melted into the hug and hugged Kenny back.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

"F-For what?" Butters asked the shaking pervert.

"That must have been hard for you. I'm sorry that sick bastard did that." Kenny's voice was full of venom, remembering Dr. Lee's smug smile. "From now on, I won't leave your side."

Butters blinked at the serious tone in his voice. Kenny wasn't ever the serious type. He was carefree and aloof. When he _was _actually serious, it was usually something he believe in, or a promise.

"I won't let you get hurt." Kenny whispered, hugging him more forcefully.

* * *

"Tweek!" Craig called blandly down the halls.

He was walking around the basement of the hospital, one floor away from parking. He'd been walking around the building for hours and he still couldn't find his twitching friend.

"Tweek!" He yelled again.

He mindlessly swerved around the basement, which was filled with stacks of papers and boxes. He could hardly move around the mess planted at his feet.

"Are you down here? Hello!" He sighed.

He was about to just give up and go eat something. He was pretty sure it was already lunch time. His mouth watered at the thought of food.

"Fuck this." He growled to himself as he turned around.

Craig turned right into a piled up stack of papers, successfully knocking them all on the floor. He sighed and stared down at them.

"Damn." He said monotonously.

He fell to his knees roughly and started picking up the papers. He started a pile, trying to make it look the same as before. Just as he was picking up a magazine, a news article taped to a thick piece of paper caught his eyes. In big, bold letters at the top, it said '**Mass Murderer.'**

Craig blinked and threw the others papers on the stack before picking the article up. In smaller letters under the title it said '_A hospital visit gone horribly wrong_."

He read over the paper quickly, his curiosity was catching up with him. After he read the article, his eyebrows shot up. A shiver crept up his spine as he ran out of the room, finding the others.

* * *

"Kenny was right!" He said, slamming the article down on the table.

Kyle and Stan looked up at his with raised eyebrows.

"What's that?" Stan asked, sipping his coke.

"It's a newspaper article I found in the basement. Listen to this. _November 13, 8:30 a.m. After a tragic accident happened to his son, leaving him dead, Travis Malone had a breakdown. When beating his wife didn't satisfy him enough, he killed her. Still feeling the need to kill, he went back to the Wahnsinn Hospital for revenge. His son had died there because the hospital had low supplies that day. Travis walked into the hospital and held everyone inside hostage. He eventually killed everyone he could find. Some few survivors say that instead of shooting them with a gun, he first drove them out of their mind with fear and paranoia. Then, he slowly let the people go so insane that they'd kill themselves. Travis is said to still live in the hospital."_

Kyle and Stan exchanged glances.

"So you think this guy is here?" Kyle asked.

Craig nodded. "Why else would this hospital be totally deserted? Besides, Kenny said he saw a guy covered in blood. That could have been Travis!"

"Or Kenny could have totally drunk out of his mind. I mean, come on, Craig. If this guy actually exist, then why haven't the police arrested him for homicide?" Stan piped in.

He flipped the jock off. "I don't know, but I'm going to figure it out."

"Good luck with that." He said, standing up. "But if you don't mind, Kyle and I are going to go to bed."

Kyle followed the black-haired boy out the door, going towards the stairs. Craig sighed and crumbled the article in frustration. _I wonder if that's the reason Tweek is gone._

His heart clenched in realization. He dropped the paper and ran out the door.

"Tweek!" Craig yelled down the halls as he ran. "Where are you, Tweek?"

He felt panic clasped around his heart. Where could the paranoid blonde be? Or a better question was where hasn't he checked already?

_The roof! _Craig thought, stopping and going towards the elevator. _He better fucking be there._

* * *

The elevator dinged and he ran out once the doors were out of his ways. A chilling wind blew through his uncapped hair. He whipped his head left and right, trying to find which way to start looking. The roof was pretty big, making his task that much harder.

He ran down the right side. "Tweek! Tweek, are you up here!"

After a while, his lungs started to burn from the running. But he ignored it and ran faster. He just knew Tweek was up here. He had to be. If he wasn't, then there was a good possibility that he was de-

_No! _Craig thought to himself. _I will _not _even think of that. Tweek's not dead, he's alive and he's going to be okay._

"Tweek!" He screamed, his voice cracking slightly. "Tweek!"

"Craig!" A blood curling scream came from far away.

He stopped running and looked at the direction of the scream. Craig swallowed and ran towards it at full-speed.

"Tweek? Tweek, where are you?" Craig yelled loudly.

"P-Please, you have to leave! Ahh!" He heard Tweek scream back,

Craig jumped over a raised platform and looked around. Finally, he Tweek came into his sight. He was by the edge of the roof, sitting with his arms and feet tied together. A cloth hung slimly around his neck; it probably fell from his mouth.

"Tweek!" Craig smiled, feeling a rush of relief.

"W-Wait! Gah! You need to get out of here!" Tweek screamed, terror in his twitching eyes.

Craig stopped walking, suddenly cautious. "Why?"

Tweek's eyes went wider than before as he screamed. "It's a trap!"

Craig blinked, shocked, before he felt two strong arms clamp around his body. His scream is muffled as a cloth went over his mouth and nose. In pure instinct, he gasped. The thick air around him smelt metallic and stung his nose.

Craig thrashed around in a desperate attempt to escape. The effort became futile, for his body was becoming heavy and numb. His vision started focusing and then blurred.

"Craig!" Tweek's voice was echoed and muffled from the chloroform.

He felt exhausted as he tiredly lean back against the chest behind him. His head lolled back as his senses distorted more. He could see Tweek screaming through his blurred vision, yet he couldn't here the caffeinated boy. He could only here the beating of his heart echo in his ears.

He listened the pattern of his heartbeat as he slowly slipped into darkness.

* * *

"_Come on, Craig." His sister said, running in front of him. "Let's go into the 'Mirror Maze.'"_

_He sighed, flipping her off, but proceeding to follow her. They were on vacation at the beach. His sister had suggested that they go to the carnival the first night. Their parents agreed, yet they had stayed behind to drink. So here Craig was, looking after his younger sibling._

_They walked up to the maze. Nobody else was at the maze, giving them no waiting time to go up to the ticket taker lady. Considering that the girl was reading a magazine in boredom, Craig concluded that she didn't get many customers. He understood why. Mirror Mazes were gay and boring. But Ruby was lucky that he didn't care enough to stop her from dragging him up the girl. Craig uninterestedly gave the tickets to the lady._

"_Alright, you two stick together and keep your shoes on at all times." She said in monotone._

_Craig flipped her off, but it was unnoticed as the girl went back to reading her magazine, popping her gum. _

_Craig went into the maze first, immediately being surrounded by mirrors. Ruby followed after, her usually nagging face was replaced with an amazed one. All around them were their reflections, confusing them. Occasionally, they had to stop and feel around until they could find the doorway instead of a mirror._

_Craig sighed as he walked faster through the maze. He was getting confused easily and he hated that feeling. He sneakers squeezed as he stopped again, looking around to find which of them wasn't a mirror. When he couldn't find it, he looked back at Ruby for help. _

_But he discovered that she wasn't there._

"_Ruby?" He asked, blandly._

_He blinked and walked back through the opening he just came from. He kept walking the wrong way, trying to find his lost sister. He looked around._

"_Didn't I just come from that doorway?" He asked himself._

_Everywhere, his reflection was staring him in the face. He was lost and panic started creeping into his mind. He started running, quickly finding the opening and pushing himself through. His heart beat rose with his panic levels._

_He suddenly ran face-first into the mirror, mistaking it for a doorway. He fell backwards and felt his head throb in pain. _

"_Damn it." He growled, flipping up his middle finger._

_He suddenly felt warm liquid trickle down his forehead. He opened his eyes in shock and placed his fingers against the fluid. He then pulled his fingers back and inspected them._

Red liquid? _He thought to himself. His heart skipped a beat in realization. His eyes focused on the ground beside his fingers. At his feet were shards of glass. He then looked back up at the mirror he ran into. _

_The mirror was broken, right where he had hit his forehead. There a tiny bit of blood, though translucent on the glass. He quickly looked down at his reflection. He suddenly wished he had brought his hat to reduce the force of the impact._

_On his forehead was a deep, long incision. Around and in it were tiny pieces of glass, sparkling in the lights shining down on him. Blood ran down his forehead, cheeks, and then started to reach his neck. He was too numb to feel the pain that it created._

_Fear boiled in his stomach as he let out a long, horrible scream._

* * *

Craig's head throbbed as he gradually regained consciousness. His mind was clouded, making regular thought impossible. He could still here his fast heartbeat echo in his ears, along with a loud ringing sound.

Once his mind was as clear and sharp as always, he opened his eyes. He was staring at the ceiling, squinting in the bright florescent lights. The wave of nausea that overcame him was ignored as he looked around.

Surrounding him on all sides were long, wide mirrors.


	5. Mirror, Mirror on the wall

**Sorry for the long wait! :D I've been REALLY busy and it's been difficult to write. From now on, I will update sooner and write faster.**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It's kind of insane.**

"Let me out!" Craig screamed at the top of his lungs, it echoing off the mirrors surrounding him.

Craig felt as if he was chocking on the thick air around him. He panted, his breathing coming out in short gasp. His small breakfast turned in his stomach, making him have to swallow down the barf collecting in his throat.

He kept going in circles, trying to find an exit, but only coming face-to-face another reflection. The walls felt as if they were closing in on him, cutting of the air around him.

"Hello? Anyone! Get me out of here!" Craig yelled at the a mirror.

His reflection was scaring him, too, because he showed how terrified he was. His skin had dropped a few tones and now he was as pale as a ghost. With the exception of his cheeks, which were bright red. His blue eyes were wider than he had ever seen them. There were beads of sweat collecting on his skin, rolling down his cheek ever once in awhile. He kept swallowing, whether it be collected saliva or puke.

A wave of dizziness fell over him and he sat back in the wooden chair he woke up on. He tried to steady his excessive breathing, but it was no use. He couldn't calm down with his fear literally staring him in the face.

He clutched his stomach, praying for it to stop hurting. But it only clenched harder and his nausea rose up his mouth once more.

This time, he didn't hold it in. He fell off the chair, to his knees, and puked onto the floor. Once the sour smell hit his nose, he did it again. He kept vomiting until there was nothing more in his stomach and he was left dry heaving.

After he had finally stopped, he fell back onto his butt, clutched his knees, and rocked back and forth. He covered his mouth quickly, trying to keep himself from dry heaving once more. The nauseous passed quickly, and he looked up.

His breathing sped up again, to the point of hyperventilating. He looked down, trying to convince himself that he was in his room, not by any mirrors.

_I'm taking a bath, relaxing in the warm water. No mirrors, no reflections. _He thought, trying to calm himself down.

But when something caught his eyes, he looked over, seeing his reflection once more. He stomach flipped once more and he barely had the time to lean forward before he puked once more.

He coughed, his throat clenching tightly from the burn of the vomit and lack of breath. He sat back once his stomach stopped tightening.

"No. No! Please, God, no!" He yelled to himself, clutching his head.

He rocked back and forth once, still cradling his head. "Please. This can't be happening. I'm dreaming! Yeah, I'm still dreaming."

Tears streamed down his face as he hyperventilated some more. He quickly stood up again, looking around in circles. More thoughts raced through his head, some trying to convince himself it was dream, and the others showing the reality of this.

"No." He said, turning back around, meeting another mirror image. "No, no, NO!"

Anger mixed with the fear inside him. He panted, trying to calm himself from both emotions that raged inside him. He shook his head, more tears falling down his cheeks. The anger slightly outweighed the fear as pick up the chair, clutching it in his hands.

"NO!" He yelled, slamming the chair into one of the mirrors.

The whole mirror didn't break, but a small portion was dented in. He had hit his image right in the stomach. Craig repeated the actions, the anger and fear boiling together.

"Fuck!" He yelled smashing the mirror in the same place as the others.

The glass was already broken and laying in shards on the ground. Yet he kept repeating the action until the only thing left was the metal behind the mirror.

He turned around to the mirror behind him and slammed the chair right to his reflection's face. The thick flying shards sliced up his hands and wrist, but he ignored and hit more mirrors.

He screamed and hit the last mirror, it denting also. After he saw each mirror broken in, he threw the chair away from him. He panted and tried to get his breath back. His anger quickly faded once he saw that his hands were covered in his own blood.

He looked up once again. The mirrors were still slightly intact, with the exceptions of the dents. But he saw enough of his reflections for the fear to take control of him once again.

"Let me out!" He screamed, running up to a mirror and punching it.

The glass dented once again, the shards stabbing into his fist. He looked at the glass sticking out of the cuts and remember back to the mirror maze he went in when he was twelve.

He couldn't fell the glass, just like that day. He was completely numb from the fear. It scared him not to feel. Being numb only reminded him how scared he actually was. He needed to feel. So, he punched the mirror again.

He did it once again, and another after that. He punched it so many times that there was no more skin color on his knuckles. He could only see dripping blood and glass shards.

When he stopped punching the mirrors, realization poured into his mind. He started crying, leaning against the broken mirror and dragging his bloody hand down it.

"Please! Please, let me out!" He yelled, his throat pinching tightly.

"I can't take it!" He yelled, slammed both fist against the glass. "Please! I can't do this anymore! I want to die! Kill me!"

He pressed his side against the glass and slide down. The broken glass about half way down slide across his face, shredding it up. He didn't care, though. He was still numb, not feeling anything but the high temperature of the confined room around him.

He fell onto his back, staring at the mirror on the ceiling.

"Help." He said. "Please, let me out. Please. Please."

He grabbed a long piece of glass beside him and gripped it tightly. He felt more blood rush to the surface of his palm, but still no pain. He closed his eyes, more tears spilling out.

"Please." He whispered.

He gripped the glass even tighter, willing it to slice through his hand. He wanted to die, preferably of blood loss. It was either die or wait here until he starved to death. So either way, he was going to die. He wasn't getting out; he _knew_ he couldn't get out. Nobody knew he was in here. Stan and Kyle were sleeping. Butters and Kenny were in their room. And Tweek, poor Tweek, was still tied up on the roof.

"Tweek." Craig whispered, squeezing the glass. "Tweek, I'm sorry. Please. Get me out of here. Somebody get me out of here!"

He yelled the last part, his voice cracking from emotion. He opened his eyes once again, string up at his bloody reflection.

"Please." He whispered to it. "Kill me."

His lips twisted up into insane, irony-filled smile. "I want to die."

He laughed manically, clutching other pieces of glass and slicing them into his skin. His laughs got louder and louder as each glass sliced into his palm. Maybe if he pressed them deep enough, he would feel them. He wanted the pain. He wanted to feel the sting and burn of the glass shards ripping into his skin.

"I'll never get out of here, will I?" He asked his reflection.

It shook his head. Craig nodded knowingly, relaxing on the glass shards under him. He had already given up hope. He knew he wasn't going to survive this. Eventually, he'll die of either blood loss, dehydration, hunger or suicide. He smiled as the lass choice rang into his head.

Suddenly, there was a huge boom coming from outside the circle of mirrors. He dully looked over at the shaking mirror, which was parallel form him. It shook lightly, as if someone was hitting it from the other side.

"Please." He whispered, his face pressed in the glass shards on the ground.

There was another boom, the mirror shaking more than before. Tiny pieces of broken glass fell because of the force. He watched with dead eyes as the pounding became harder and louder. More glass fell, breaking on the ground below it.

The mirror suddenly opened, quickly, as if someone had kicked it open. It slammed into the mirror beside it, cracking it even farther. Through Craig's blurry vision, he saw untied sneakers step onto the glass shards on the ground. Craig slowly looked up at the person.

"C-Craig?" Tweek yelled, running over to him.

Tweek fell onto his knees beside him, flinching as glass pierced his skin. He gently pulled the blood covered boy into sitting position, Craig's head lolling a little bit.

"Ah! Craig, are you -nngh- alright?" Tweek asked, looking him over.

More tears fell form Craig's eyes as he smile. He reached up and put his blood covered hand on Tweek's cheek.

"You're here." He said lowly, his voice cracking.

Tweek blinked as he felt Craig's now ice cold blood cover him cheek. He screamed when he saw the older boy's eyes roll back into head and his body falling. Tweek jerked forward, catching Craig before he slammed his head into more glass.

* * *

Tweek carried the blood-clad boy up the stairs. The boy on his back kept slipping from his jerks and twitches. He was trying to hurry to find the other guys. Craig was losing too much blood and there was something important Tweek had to tell them about what was going on.

Once he got to the lounge, he peeked his head in. Kenny, Butters, Stan, and Kyle all sat around the table, eating hamburgers. Kyle looked up and met Tweek's eyes.

"Tweek!" He yelled.

Everyone followed the Jew's eyes and stared at Tweek.

"Where have you been?" Kenny's smile looked strained. "Craig's worried sick about you!"

Tweek opened the door the rest of the way and walked in. All eyes fell on the bloody boy on his back. Butters gasped, standing up.

"Craig?"

"P-Please help him! Gah!" Tweek yelled, tears forming in his eyes.

* * *

After bringing Craig to his bedroom, they laid him down on the bed. Kenny grabbed the first-aid kit and stated working on cleaning out the boy's wounds. Tweek hurriedly and nervously told everyone what happened to Craig.

"And I found him covered in blood and glass! Ahh!" Tweek concluded, sipping a newly brewed cup of coffee.

Kenny finished wrapping Craig's ripped up hand. "So, what happened to you? We haven't seen you since lunch yesterday."

The three boys behind him leaned in, waiting for an answer.

"We're not alone in this hospital!" He voice was strained. "When I was walking -hrk- back down to the lounge, I saw a guy standing at the end of the hall. Argh! He had some kind of mask on, but he was wearing a black shirt and bloody white pants. Ah! He took me!"

Everyone, except him, looked over at Kenny. He jumped to his feet, pointed at the three.

"I told you that I didn't imagine him!" He yelled.

Tweek twitched at his tone. "Y-You saw him too!"

"Yeah! The lights went off and I ran into him." Kenny replied, sitting back down and cleaning the wounds down Craig's face.

"We need to get out of here." Stan spoke up.

Kyle nodded. "This has gone too far. Craig and Kenny both almost died today! This is way too fucked up. Once Craig wakes up, we should all sneak out."

They rest agreed on talking about escaping after the bloody boy woke up. They went back to watching Kenny dress Craig's wounds.

* * *

An hour later, Craig suddenly groaned. Tweek gasped and leaned closer. Stan and Kyle were both asleep on Tweek's bed, while Butters was watching TV and Kenny was in the bathroom.

"K-Kenny!" Tweek yelled.

"Let a man take a piss!" Was the gruff reply.

"Craig's waking up! Gah!"

There was a moment of silence before the toilet flushed and Kenny walked out of the bathroom. He looked at Craig before helping Butters wake up the others.

Tweek looked down at Craig, just in time to see his two, royal blue eyes opened slowly. He seemed dazed for a little until he blinked in confusion.

"C-Craig?" Tweek spoke up, startling Craig.

He slowly moved his head, aware that the pain in the back of his head was from the shards of glass. The pain was delightful to him, showing he wasn't numb anymore. Along with the sore pain in his body, came a relaxed comfortable on. He was no longer by any mirrors. Instead, he was in his room, looking up at a concerned Tweek.

"Tweek." He whispered softly. "Are you okay?"

The blonde twitched and glared down at him. "Worry about yourself, not me. Argh! You're covered in cuts!"

Craig weakly brought up his middle finger and shoved it in his face. But even if he did that, a small smile formed on his face.

"Thank you, Tweek. You really saved my ass." He whispered, pulling his hand back down.

Tweek blinked and was about to ask from what, but suddenly there was an arm over his shoulder. He shrieked and shook. Kenny smiled over at him before looking down at Craig.

"How you feeling?" He asked, smirking.

Craig raised his favorite hand gesture again for the sake of Kenny smug attitude. "I'm fine. Why?"

"What do you mean why? I'm your friend, aren't I?" The perverted flashed him a smile.

"No." Craig answered monotonously. He was glad that the pervert was acting the same, and not pitying him for the cuts.

Kenny pretended to wipe away a tear. "That hurt, Craig, that really hurt."

Kyle stepped in front of Kenny, who still his arm around the uncomfortable Tweek.

"We're leaving this place. You were right about the murderer. Kenny and Tweek both saw him. He even took Tweek." The Jew said, looking serious.

Craig nodded, weakly pulling himself into sitting position. He head spun a little, but other than that his head was good. The cuts and bruises on his body were different. When he moved, they tightened and stung. But that was his problem. He's the one that tried to kill himself.

"Okay." he agreed. "Let's go."

He slowly pulled himself out of the bed. Tweek ran to his side, letting Kenny's arm drop, and helped Craig stand. He swallowed down his pain and stood up straight. Then, he nodded down at the blonde. Tweek yelled and let go of Craig.

"S-Should we get our stuff?" Butters asked.

Tweek twitched. "Wait! Gah! C-Craig's in n-no condition to run around! Maybe we should wait."

"No, we have to leave now." Kyle announced.

Stan reached forward and grabbed the Jew's hand tightly.

"How about tomorrow morning." He said, gripping the redhead's hand in assurance. "That gives us all time to rest up and Craig time to heal."

Kyle sighed. "Fine, but it has to be early!"

They all nodded, leaning in closely, and started talking lowly about the plan or escape. But little did they know that there was a surveillance camera in the corner, watching and hearing everything.

* * *

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	6. Memory Set In Ice

**For all of those who had been waiting for more Style, here it is! Also, i put a link of the trailer for 'Beyond Remedy' in my profile. If you want to see it, go ahead. **

**Anyway, i hope you all enjoy this chapter, even if you don't like yaoi! Review if you want to! Love you all~! :D**

"We'll meet in lounge at five in the morning. Right now, we need to rest." Kyle said to everyone.

They all nodded in unison. As quickly as he could, Kenny grabbed Butters' hand and lightly dragged him out the door. Stan and Kyle followed, saying goodnight to Tweek. They walked side by side down to their room, which was right beside Crag's and across from Kenny's.

"Goodnight, fellas." Butters said politely before behind pulled into the room by a troubled looking Kenny.

Stan and Kyle exchanged suspicious glances before walking into their own room. Kyle shut the door slowly and watched as Stan pulled of his jacket. The black-haired boy sighed, throwing his jacket somewhere random.

"I'm going to get a bath." He mumbled, grabbing the towel he brought and walking into the bathroom without a response.

Kyle blinked and stared at the door that had hid his friend. He realized that tomorrow was a little stressful, but Stan seemed extra anxious. The Jew sighed, mentally taking a note to ask him about it later. He walked to his bed, turned on the TV, and waited until Stan came out of the bathroom.

* * *

Stan relaxed in the bubbly water that filled the tub. Worry didn't even begin to explain how felt about tomorrow. There was something pulling at the edge of his brain. Something that they were missing. It was important. But he just couldn't remember it!

He sighed and slid deeper into the water, until only his face was visible and he was laying down. _They told us in the beginning of the course, when we first cam here. It was… uh. Fuck. Why the hell can't I remember!_

He battled it over in his thoughts until his head started to hurt. Then, he just frowned and took a deep breath. After he had a good amount of air, he pushed the rest of head under water. The tub was pretty roomy and deep, so he could just float there like a pool. Why they had tubs at a hospital room was beyond him, but whatever. He was grateful to be getting clean from all of Craig's blood, since he had to carry him up to the room.

Stan relaxed at the feeling of the warmth around him. Ever since he came to this hospital, he had been nothing but cold and empty. Like the feeling you get when you're being watched. It creeped him out and he couldn't stop shivering. Just like the time when he was twelve…

In the back of his mind, he distantly felt as if something was touching him. As if there was a hand on his neck, lightly pressing him down holding him there. A thumb slowly ran back and forth on his jugular, as if was calming him down.

Stan's eye flew open under the water, realization flooding his mind. He couldn't breathe! His head pushed forward, towards the surface, only to be held there by something. His eyes, slowly starting to burn from the soapy water, frantically looked around.

The bubbles on the water's surface made it impossible for seeing what held him down. He closed his eyes and let out a small air bubble. He watched it get to the surface, popping and scattering enough bubbles to see.

Above him was a blood covered girl, about eight years old. Her long black hair covered her face, looking a lot like the chick from that old 'Grudge' movie. Her yellow sundress was also covered in thick, maroon blood.

Stan's eyes widened. He started thrashing around against the two hands holding him down by his throat. He grabbed her wrist and tried to pry her off as he lost more oxygen. His lungs started clenching tightly. He could also feel his cheeks growing hot. Frantically, he kicked at anything he could, which was mostly shampoo bottles and soap. But he couldn't escape the hands.

He finally gave up on trying to save his breath. It was becoming too hard. So, he breathed in. The water around him burned as it went down his throat and into his lungs. His flailing legs had felt heavier and they relaxed onto the tub's floor. He kept trying to pry the hands holding him, but he was feeling dizzy. His eyes slowly started rolling back.

Suddenly, the hands from his neck were gone. As heavy and tired as he was, he took the opportunity and broke the surface. He was grateful for the sweet taste of air, even though he was now coughing harshly. He collapsed on the edge of the tub, his chest heaving rapidly.

The bathroom was empty and silent, except for the pounding on the door he heard on the edge of his hearing. He felt dazed and disoriented. Everything he heard sounded as it was at the end of tunnel, far away from him.

He laid his head on the tub, closing his eyes and catching his breath. Waiting for his senses to start to come back.

"Stan! Are you okay? Hello!" Kyle yelled through the thick door.

If he hadn't of locked the door, there would be no doubt in his mind that Kyle would have already been in the room. Stan coughed up more water and took a strained breath.

"Kyle." He tried to say, through the water in his lungs made it sound quiet and strained.

He waited more, listening to Kyle pound at the door and call his name. His throat slightly regained itself. After it didn't tighten at every breath, he called. "Kyle?"

"Stan?" He was surprised the Jew could hear him. "What the fuck is going on in there?"

"Nothing." He said breathlessly, too tired to raise his head. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are. You sound funny. Come out here, now!" Kyle yelled, like a mother scolding her child.

Stan slowly pushed himself up with his shaking arms. Eventually, he got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. He waited until he could feel his numb legs before draining the water and opening the door.

He immediately came face-to-face with a very angry Jew. Stan was way taller than his younger friend, but Kyle got on his tippy toes and their noses were nearly pressed together.

"What happened?" He demanded.

Stan frowned down at him. "Nothing."

"That's bullshit, and you know it, Stanley. Why are you _blue_?"

"Jesus, Ky, you're not my mother." The jock said, pushing passed his friend.

"I don't have to be your mother to care." He said turning around, crossing his arms. "You sounded like you were drowning or something."

Stan knew he would never win a fight against the fiery redhead. Maybe he'd win in a fist fight, considering how thin Kyle was, but _never _in an argument. He'd either have to tell the truth or drop it altogether.

"Kyle, please just let it go. Okay?" Stan looked at him over his shoulder.

The Jew saw a flash of fear and worry in the other's eyes. He knew it was probably because of the incident a few years ago. Just like himself, Stan saw something so unpleasant and scary that it created a phobia.

Kyle dropped his crossed arms and sighed. "Fine."

Stan smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

It was about twelve o'clock, five hours until they escaped the hospital. Stan was no closer to sleep then when he first went to bed. He just stared up at the ceiling, occasionally glancing over at the bathroom. He kept thinking that child would just randomly appear again. It was scaring him.

Stan sighed and looked over at Kyle, who had falling asleep hours ago. He was on his side, facing Stan, while curled up in a ball. His mouth was open slightly and his emerald eyes were hidden behind his eyelids. There was a slight blush on his cheeks, which he could see because of the moonlight in the window. The Jew's soft red curls caught the light, making him glow.

Stan looked back up at the ceiling and bit his lip. It had been two years ago since he noticed his feelings start to grow for Kyle. Wendy broke up with him, again, and everyone brushed him off; since it happened every other week. Kyle was the only one who had tried to comfort him, in which he did by having him sleep over and then held him after a small break down.

He's feelings grew even more a year ago, when the accident had happened. Stan was driving home alone after a party…

* * *

"_Stan, are you sure you don't just want to crash here? They are offering rooms." Kyle asked, concerned by the amount of ice on the roads._

"_Don't worry, Ky!" He rolled his eyes, draping his arm over his friend. "My house is one hour away. And I only had one beer. So chill."_

_Kyle frowned up at his friend. "Fine, but make sure you call me right when you get home."_

_Stan chuckled. "Loosen up, mother."_

_Kyle rolled his eyes at the insult. "Whatever, dude, just hurry up. I heard the roads were supposed to be bad tonight." _

_Stan waved his hand in an aloof matter and walked out the door. Kyle watched him pull out of the driveway slowly, as if he was trying to assure him that he'd be fine. He kept his eyes glued to Stan's car until it was out of sight._

_Stan narrowed his eyes at the foggy road. It was snowing hard and it was nearly impossible to see. He was the only one on the four lane road, so he knew this was probably a bad storm. He shook his head, regretting going to a party out of town. He knew he should have just stayed home, but Kyle insisted. _

_Stan turned up the heat and blared the music. He wasn't use to driving in such bad condition, since South Park only had light snowfalls. It was only a little bit since he got his license anyway. Both scared him immensely. He had never been in an accident; and didn't want to either._

_He saw a car come up from behind him in the rearview mirror. This eased his worries a little bit. _If other people were driving, then the weather couldn't be that bad. _He assured himself, smiling. _

_The car pulled up drove up beside him slowly. Stan looked at them, facing the back seat. There was a little girl, about five or six years old, staring out the window at the storm. She brushed her fingers through her long black hair anxiously._

_Stan ripped his eyes from the worried little girl, and looked back at the road. The storm was starting to become worse. It didn't help his nerves that now they going onto a small bridge. He saw that the frozen water under had a small blanket of snow collecting on it._

_He sighed and looked back at the road. _It's just snow. _He told himself. _Stop being a pussy about it._ He turned the music up more, so loud that it blocked out the roaring wind outside. He tried to imagine it was summer time and there was a hot road, instead of an icy one._

_Suddenly, his car jerked and swerved slightly. His mouth turned instantly dry and he gasped. Instinctively, he slammed his foot onto the brake. _

_This proved nothing but a mistake as the car slid on the ice. He tried to control the car, by moving the steering wheel, but the tires just slipped once more._

_The front of the car turned sharply and hit the car beside him, which was only the bumper since it was going slightly faster than him. The car's tire also slipped out on control. _

_Stan felt fear flood through him as he watched everything spin a circle. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and couldn't help but scream in fear. He felt dazed, as if he was watching a movie instead of actually being in the car._

_There was a muffled, but loud thud as he crashed against the guardrail. The sudden stop made Stan fly to the side, then forward. First, he slammed the side of his head against the window. The glass cracked, but didn't break. Then, he head bolted forward, colliding with the steering wheel. He felt his neck twisted uncomfortably and his head throb. _

_He was lucky on two occasions. One, it was the other side of the car that took the damage of the guardrail. The car was dented towards him and covered in glass, making him thankful that he hadn't been hit. Two, the airbags hadn't gone off. He didn't doubt that if they had gone off, he had a broken neck. Though his neck and head were starting to become sore._

_It felt like the car crash lasted for an hour or so. But in reality, it was only a few seconds. He looked out the broken window in time to see the other car crash. It kept spinning and twisting until it hit the guard rail. Unfortunately, the car was bigger than his and the rail broke. The car flew off the bridge, heading straight for the water beneath._

_The only thing that flashed through his mind was the girl. That fearful little girl who was now going to die because of him. It was his fault that he was driving, because he wanted to seem brave for Kyle. It was his fault he wasn't paying enough attention to the road and slipped. And it was his fault that he hit the car._

_He was dazed as he grabbed the handle and pried the door open. His legs were numb and frozen, but he managed to walk to the middle of the road. _

_Stan hesitated. He was too scared to walk up and look down. He was scared that if he looked down, he would fall and die. Or that little girl would still be and look at him. Maybe she'd look at him in fear or disappointment. Maybe she be hanging off the edge, then grab him and pull him down with her. She could come back up and pushed him down for killing her parents. _

_These thoughts, and more, ran through his head as he slowly stepped back. Even looking at the edge scared him. If he called 911 instead of staring, they could have been saved. They could have been pulled out of the water before they died of hypothermia or drowning._

_It was his fault that the family was dead. It was his fault that they were now at the bottom of the deep river, drowning._

_It was his fault that he was now scared of heights._

* * *

Stan stared at the bathroom once again. He was sure that the girl was watching him, planning out how to kill him. He tried to convince himself that it was just an illusion that tried to drown him in the bathtub. But illusions aren't real. And the hands around his throat were defiantly real.

He moved his gaze back to Kyle, who still had his eyes closed. But before he could looked down at his friend, something caught his eye. On the other side of the Jew's bed, standing right in front of the window, was the girl.

Her black hair hung in her blood stained face, giving her a evil look. He knew she was evil by the way she was staring down at Kyle with empty mad eyes.

Stan felt his heart clench. _She's just an illusion. She's just an illusion._ He repeated to himself as he watched her reach down to his sleeping friend._ Just an illusion! She's just an ILLUSION!_

"Kyle!" Stan screamed, jolting up.

He blinked and the girl was gone. He looked around, but she was no where. Once again, the girl had disappeared. And they were alone again.

Kyle shot up out of his sleep, shocked. "What!"

He looked over at Stan, who was now shaking and sweating. His startled look faded when he saw the condition of his friends. Stan was obviously scared.

"What's wrong?" He growled, half-heartedly.

Stan swallowed, obviously not seeing that the anger in Kyle's voice was fake. He would have been pissed if someone woke him up by screaming in terror. But Kyle was more concerned and worried than angry.

"Nothing!" Stan practically shrieked. "Sorry for waking you."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't look like nothing."

He smiled. "I just… had a bad dream is all. Goodnight."

He pulled the covers over his body and slammed back into the bed. He was facing away from his worried friend. Unknown to him, Kyle kept staring at him. He knew there was something was wrong, why else would Stan wake him up, screaming. Also, he knew it wasn't a dream because he could tell the difference between someone who just woke up and who never slept in the first place.

The Jew sighed once again and stood up. Grudgingly, he walked over to Stan's bed. He considered just going back to his bed and not pushing it. But he decided otherwise and lifted the covers on the bed.

Stan felt the blankets rise slightly, then the bed dipped down. He blinked and looked over his shoulder. Laying beside him was Kyle, his back facing him. Although he felt calmer with the presence of his secret crush beside him, it was also nerve-racking.

"K-Kyle?" Stan asked, blinking.

"Shut up and go to sleep." He replied, grumpily.

From the sound of it, it was as if Kyle was doing this because he had to. Like he was forced to and now he was angry. But Stan saw the faint blush on his friend's face. The redhead wasn't angry at this, but embarrassed instead. This made Stan smile.

He turned over and pulled Kyle closer to him. There was a sharp, surprised gasp from said boy. Stan smiled and pulled him into his chest, still holding him. Kyle struggled, trying to pry himself from Stan's hold.

"Dude, what the fuck? Get off!" The Jew exclaimed, pushing on the arms around his waist.

Stan peeked at Kyle's face. He looked for any signs of fury or uneasiness. But instead he saw only embarrassment and a little bit of something he couldn't place. Once again, Kyle wasn't angry, only flustered.

Stan leaned down and mockingly whispered into the Jew's ear. "Shut up and go to sleep, _Kyle._"

Kyle stopped moving and glared back at the smirking jock. He rolled his eyes, but relax.

"You're an asshole, you know that right." He growled as he rested his head on the pillow beneath him.

Stan chuckled. "Yeah, I know."

They were silent for a moment before Kyle spoke up again. "Why exactly are you spooning me?"

Stan tightened his grip on the smaller boys hips as he thought of an answer. He had no fucking idea why he was holding Kyle. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. Stan would always do this to Wendy when they laid together in bed.

He hid his blushing face from his confused friend. Instead of answering, he brought his hand up and ran it through the redhead's fiery curls. Kyle was more than a little bit confused at the actions, but rolled his eyes anyway.

"I'll take that as a 'I have no idea.'" He said, smugly.

Stan laughed, but kept looking around nervously. He was glad Kyle was over here, so he could protect him. There was a possibility that the girl would be back. And he wasn't to fond of her going near Kyle. He wanted to kept the redhead safe.

Kyle felt Stan's arm tightened around his waist. The hand in his curls also came to halt. He blinked and looked back at Stan.

The jock was looking around, as if something was going to pop out of nowhere and grab him. He was obviously scared. Kyle's hand instinctively went to his scar and rubbed it.

"What's wrong, Stan?" He asked suddenly.

Stan jumped and looked back down at him. He swallowed at Kyle's intense gaze. He debated in his mind whether to tell him or not. He didn't want him to see that he was scared; he wanted to be brave. But if Kyle already noticed it, he was pretty sure he couldn't cover it up without it being totally obvious.

Stan sighed. "I keep seeing _her._"

Kyle understood immediately. He was the first person Stan called after the accident. When he got there, Stan had a complete breakdown. He kept rambling on that the girl was going to kill him and he kept seeing her. Kyle was nothing but worried for him, and the family that crashed, so he called 911. He didn't tell them about what Stan was seeing, so they would sedate him. He wanted to help him on his own.

"Is that what happened in the bathroom?" Kyle asked, piecing things together in his mind.

Stan hesitated, but nodded anyway. "Yeah, she was drowning me."

Kyle nodded. He thought for a moment before pulling Stan off him and sitting up. For a second, Stan thought he was going to leave. To call him crazy and abandon him. But instead, the Jew opened his arms, as if waiting for a hug. Stan blinked, trying to convince that this is real.

"Come on, I'm only doing this once." Kyle growled, looking away.

Stan saw that he was only embarrassed again. He took this as a good sign and tackled him. Kyle gasped lightly as he fell back on the bed from the hold. Stan's arms were around his midsection and face pressed into his stomach.

Kyle didn't need to say any comforting words or promises that it will be okay. All he had to is rub his hand through his friend's black hair. Unlike himself, Stan didn't need words. All Stan needed was someone to hold him. He needed to feel a body and know that they understand.

After a while, they slowly fell asleep. Each of them was calm, not as anxious about what will come. They weren't concerned that Ike or the little girl would be standing there, staring at them. They didn't care that tomorrow they were escaping and they could die.

They only cared about the body beside them, trying desperately to relax the other.


	7. Escape

**Thank you to all the people that reviewed, or is thinking about reviewing! You make me so fucking happy! ;D**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!**

"Stan." A voice said, pulling the black-haired boy from his sleep. "Wake up, dude!"

Kyle sighed, still shaking his friend. Said boy was still wrapped around him comfortably. The Jew couldn't move from the bed if he stayed like that. It wouldn't have been a problem for him, _if_ it wasn't 4:45 and they needed to get ready.

"Stan! Get the fuck up!" He finally resulted in screaming.

The jock twitched slightly and sighed, his breath tickling the Jew's slightly exposed stomach. A second later, Stan's deep azure eyes fluttered open. He blinked rapidly, trying to get accustom to the lamp's light that Kyle had turned on. After awhile, he gave up and closed his eyes again. Sighing, Stan cuddled closer to the body next to him.

_Wait….body?_

Stan gasped in realization and flew up. He blushed as he stared down at Kyle, who was now starting to sit up.

The Jew smirked. "About time you got up."

Stan glared, but otherwise ignored the comment. "What time is it?"

He looked over at the alarm clock, reading 4:50. They need to go, now. Kyle nodded at him, as if he read his mind, and stood up.

"There's no use packing our things." He said. "We'll just get dressed and go."

Stan nodded. "Okay."

* * *

They cautiously walked into the lounge, looking out for any doctors. Fortunately they found none, and instead got to the other pair. Tweek was busy filling his thermos with loads of coffee, while Craig leaned against the counter beside him. He was acting bored, but occasionally gazed at the spaz.

"Ready to go?" Stan asked, making their arrival noticed.

Tweek screamed and spilt some of his coffee. He looked behind his shoulder, relaxing slightly.

"O-Oh, hey guys. Gah!" He practically yelled at the two.

"Where's Kenny and Butters?" Stan asked, walking fully into the lounge.

"I don't know." Craig said, as usual, in monotone. "They're probably still in their room."

"We can't wait any longer." Kyle annunciated. "We do not have time for this."

Tweek tremblingly sipped his coffee. "Gah! W-Why don't we go look for them?"

"We?" Craig looked down at him, confused.

"Y-Yes, we! Ahh! You and I can -nngh- go find Kenny while they go on ahead." He explained, shaking more under Craig's gaze.

"Fine." He said, not caring.

"We'll go find the nearest help there is." Kyle spoke up, glancing at Stan.

The black-haired boy nodded. They looked back over at Tweek and Craig, who were already heading towards the door. They all walked out together, although taking off in different directions.

"Gah! Bye!" Tweek told the two as they started going down the hall.

Stan and Kyle nodded at him, then began finding an exit.

* * *

Craig led the way down the hall, glancing at Tweek every few seconds. Even though he would never show, or speak of it, he was scared for the twitching blonde. No matter how much Tweek annoyed him once in awhile, he did _not _want to see him die. He'd rather kill himself than see the blonde in any pain whatsoever.

Tweek looked around paranoid, trying to see if anything was going to reach out and grab him. Thoughts of paranoia raised in his mind, even stronger than usual. Even though he tried to control them, the fearful thoughts kept invading his mind and refusing to go. He could hardly drink his precious coffee due to his shaking.

Suddenly, Tweek's hand was grabbed rather roughly. The blonde screamed, cowering from the murderer. A small, light chuckle was heard above him. It wasn't an evil laugh either. It was more amused than scary.

Tweek hesitantly opened an eyes, following his hand up to see the mysterious murderer. He only saw Craig, who was smiling down at him. The black-haired boy tugged on his hand gently, instructing to move, and they began walking again.

"Don't let go of my hand, okay?" Craig said, without any emotion.

Tweek lifted to his to stare questioningly at him, but looked down when he realized that Craig was looking back at him. He instead looked down at his coffee, trying to form words.

"I-I…Gah! Uh, o-okay!" He said, blushing slightly under his gaze.

Craig inwardly smiled at the blonde. _Cute._

* * *

Stan and Kyle walked, side by side, down the halls. Their plan was to get out of the hospital as quick as possible and find a phone to call the police. Then, when the police came to the hospital, they would go back to get the others. Right now, they couldn't afford any screw ups.

They came up to an intersection of hallways. Kyle halted, looking around suspiciously. Stan saw this and stopped walking.

"What's wrong?" Stan asked.

"I don't know. Didn't we already go down this hallway?" He asked.

"Kyle, don't be ridiculous. Come on, we need to go."

The Jew nodded, but still kept the idea in his mind. Something was going on here that he didn't like. Stan wasn't as observant as him, so no wonder the jock hadn't noticed.

As the two walked down another hallway, Kyle faintly heard an echo of something. But with the sound of both their sneakers on the floor, he couldn't tell if he was imagining things or not.

Stan suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He blinked, feeling a bit scared, but that disappeared once he saw that it was only Kyle.

"What-"

"Shh!" Kyle interrupted him, putting a finger to his lips.

They both listened carefully. There were distant footsteps coming from the hallway in front of them. They both exchanged glances before hiding behind the nearest thing possible, which happened to be a hospital bed. It didn't shield them as well as they like, but it was better than standing in the middle of the hallway.

They both looked under the bed, staring directly at the hallway in front of them. The footsteps were getting louder and louder, symbolizing that whoever it was, was coming closer.

Stan put a hand on Kyle's back, trying to act brave by calming him down. Although the redhead was acting more curious than scared. It was Stan who the one needing comfort, because he was the on shaking badly.

Kyle had no time to move and help the black-haired boy, because the footsteps were right in front of them.

* * *

"Hey! Open up you two!" Craig yelled, slamming on Kenny's and Butters' door. "This isn't funny! We need to go."

Tweek stood behind him, facing the hallway. "Maybe they already left! Gah!"

"I doubt it." The boy said blandly. "We would have seen them. Shit!"

He turned around sharply, looking for something to smash in the door with. Fortunately, there was a fire extinguisher case halfway up the hall. He passed Tweek, who screamed, and ran up to the box. In big bold letters on the top of the case, it read _In case of fire, break glass._

Craig sighed. There was nothing around him to break the glass with. Only an empty hallway. There was a chance there was something in the next hallway, but he did not want to take the chance to find it.

Instead, he lifted his arm and slammed his elbow into the glass. Both his skin and the glass broke instantly. He was glad that he felt the glass this time, rather than being numb. Although, it did hurt worse than numbness.

"Gah! What did you do that for!" Tweek yelled, pulling his hair with his empty hand. "Y-You could of used my -nngh- thermos!"

Craig shrugged, grabbing the fire extinguisher. "What's done is done."

He went up to the metal door. There was no was in hell he was getting that open by slamming the extinguisher into the metal. Maybe if they had time, he would, but they didn't. So instead, he smashed the bottom of it into the door handle.

Tweek screamed at the noise and looked back in time to see the door handle break off. Craig then kicked open the door and grabbed the blonde's hand. They both walked in.

"Ahh! J-Jesus Christ, dude! Argh!" He screamed at the sight before him.

Laying on the floor in front of the two beds, laid the dead body of Kenny. There was a broken lamp beside his head, covered in his blood. There was also a puddle of the metallic red liquid on the floor around the blonde pervert.

"Ohmygod! T-They killed Kenny! Ahh!"

* * *

"Butters!" Kyle exclaimed as the owner of the footsteps revealed himself.

Butters was covered in blood, looking nervous and traumatized. He was shaking as much as Tweek, with tears gathered in his wide eyes.

"What happened? Where's Kenny?" Stan asked, coming out from their hiding spot.

"Stan! Kyle!" The blonde boy exclaimed, just now seeing the two. "It was horrible, fellas! T-The man! He killed Kenny."

Kyle blinked. "How?"

Tears ran out of the blonde's eyes and before he could answer, he started bawling. Stan and Kyle exchanged glances. They knew the small boy could never take death, especially of someone that he loved.

Kyle put a hand on his shoulders. "You need to stop crying, Butters. We have to get out of here before they kill us too. I'm pretty sure Kenny didn't just die knowing that you'd give up."

Butters sniffed. "I-I know."

"Exactly, now let's go." Stan said, feeling impatient.

Time was a luxury they didn't have, and he didn't want Butters taking what little of that they did. They needed to get the police to help Craig and Tweek. They also need the three sick 'doctors' arrested.

Butters nodded after his tears had stopped. "Okay."

Stan nodded and turned around. He was about to keep walking down the hall, but he stopped. Because of this, Kyle ran into the jock's back. He blinked.

"What the hell, Stan?" He growled angrily, looking around him to see the problem.

Standing down the hall was a man, who was gripping a knife in his hand. He had a black shirt on with a mask covering his face. But what popped out to them the most, was the blood splattered on his white pants.


	8. Some Smart, Crafty Title

**I love you guys so much! All you reviewers deserve a great big hug! One day, i swear i'll find you and give you a cookie! **

**Anyway, on with the chapter!**

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* * *

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Stan led the way down the hall, pulling Kyle along with him. Butters struggled to keep up to the pair as they ran from the killer behind him.

'Travis' was running towards the three, his knife high in the air. The three could hardly outrun the man, so they kept twisting through hallways, trying to confuse him. But he lived, and killed, in this hospital many times. There was shocking him. He knew exactly how to deal with his prey.

Stan opened a random door, pulling the two in. He locked the door, flinching when Travis pounded on it. He recoiled visibly, watching it as Kyle looked for an escape. They were in another emergency room, one similar to their bedrooms.

Kyle walked over to the window, looking for a possible way out. They were on the fourth floor, so there was a pretty long way down. He knew they couldn't jump down that far.

"Butters, come look at this!" Kyle instructed to the quivering boy.

The blonde walked over to him, kneading his hands. "Y-Yes, Kyle?"

"Look down there." The Jew said, pointed to where the second floor was.

"Emergency stairs?"

"Yeah. They start on the second floor. Do you think we can make that if we jumped?"

Butters looked nervous and scared, but nodded. "I'm pretty sure."

Kyle looked around the room, picking up the heaviest thing he could carry, which happened to be a metal chair. Stan stared at him suspiciously, still guarding the door.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked.

The Jew ignored him and threw the chair against the window. Stan flinched as the window shattered once the chair hit it.

"Jesus Christ, Kyle!" He scolded.

The redhead once again ignored the comment and repeated the action until the glass was off the whole section on the window.

He gestured for Stan to come over. The black-haired boy hesitated, but eventually walked over to the window. He grabbed a hold of Kyle's shoulder and looked down.

Immediately, he felt sick to his stomach. He stepped back, shaking his head.

"Come on, Stan. You can do it." Kyle cheered, pushing him closer to the window.

Stan grabbed the window sill. "No fucking way dude!"

"It's not that far down! Jump!" Kyle insisted.

"No, too high!"

"It's two stories away!"

"It's too fucking high, Kyle!" Stan yelled, his fear taking control of him.

The Jew narrowed his eyes, getting angry. "It's either you jump or you _die _by that freak outside the door. Which is it!"

Stan bit his lip, looking between the two options of death. He could either wait until Travis opened the door and stab him. Or he could face his fear and jump. He swallowed, his heart rate beginning to accelerate.

"Stan, I know what you're going through. But this isn't just your life you're risking. You're risking _ours_. If you don't jump, I don't jump. Then we'll both die." Kyle said, solemnly.

Stan uncertainly sat on the windowsill. Kyle held his shaking hand as the boy turned around, his legs now hanging outside the window. He swallowed seeing images of little girl drowning. Stan looked over at Kyle, who was looking at him confidently.

He looked back outside, staring down at the escape. At the back of his mind, he vaguely wondered why the fire escape didn't go all the way up the building. It didn't matter, though. He needed to swallow his fear, or he would be responsible for someone else's death again.

It seemed like forever before Stan held his breath and slid off the windowsill. The cold morning air scratching at his skin. He couldn't stop the scream that ripped up his throat as he fell. Where was the platform? Shouldn't he have hit it by now?

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain rise up his body as he feet slammed into the platform. His ankles gave out from the sting and he fell onto his back. Stan opened his eyes in shock.

He sat up. "I'm alive. Hey, Kyle! I'm alive."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "As I can see. Now move or catch me because I'm jumping."

He sat on the windowsill, Butters holding him back from falling. Kyle nodded once at Butters and then slid off.

In seconds, he slammed onto the ground. The force, just like Stan, made him fall onto his back. He ignored the pain and sat up.

"Come on, Butters!" He yelled up.

The little blonde was already on the windowsill, so all he did was slip off. Instead of letting Butters break his fragile ankles from impact, Stan caught his before he slammed onto the ground. Immediately, he let him go, turning towards the stairs.

"Come on." he announced, feeling confident now that he actually jumped.

The nodded and ran into the forest surrounding the hospital. On the bus, they did see a small house through the thick trees. It wasn't too far away. So, Stan and Butters followed Kyle, who had knew exactly where to find the house.

* * *

"There it is!" Kyle exclaimed, stopping to catch his breath.

They had been running for a while now, enough for the sun to finally come out. Kyle scarcely wondered why Butters hadn't been scared of it, but pushed it aside because it didn't matter.

Kyle knocked loudly on front door of the house. "Hey! Anyone in there! We need help!"

"F-Fellas, it looks like no one is here." Butters said shyly.

"Doesn't matter." Stan said, picking up a small metal statue sitting outside.

He threw the statue into the window beside the door. After breaking the window, he crawled in and unlocked the door from the inside. Kyle and Butters followed him into the abandoned house.

Kyle immediately ran to a phone, picking it up and putting it to his ear. "It has a dial tone."

Stan smiled, taking it from him and calling the police.

* * *

"How long until they get here?" Kyle asked as he sat down beside Stan on the couch.

"They said about thirty minutes."

"Do you think we should risk going back?"

"No." Stan answered, firmly glaring at his friend for even thinking of that.

Butters sighed, sitting on the chair. "This is bad."

Kyle nodded. "Fucked up more like it. What's the point of killing us? What the hell did we do?"

"I don't know, but I'm sorry." Stan joined in.

They looked at him questioningly.

"What the hell are you talking about, Stan?" Kyle asked.

"I signed us up for this, remember. It's my fault they're after us."

The Jew rolled his eyes. "Don't go all emo on us now. We all agreed to this, so we're all responsible."

Stan nodded, but still looked trouble by it. Butters nervously kneaded his hands together as he watched the pair. They seemed like they needed some comfort, but the blonde knew it wasn't his job to do it.

"Butters, why don't you go watch for anyone?" Kyle suggested, feeling the boy's discomfort.

He nodded. "A-Alright."

He walked out of the room, feeling nothing more than total relief. Butters walked over to the front door, leaning against it and watching out the window.

Stan and Kyle sat in complete silence. Kyle was still debating going back or not. He was worried for Tweek and Craig. But he knew that Stan wanted him to safe. He understood why the black-haired boy rejected the idea. Besides, Craig could take care of it. He wouldn't allow anyone to touch Tweek.

Kyle sighed. "How about one of us goes back?"

Stan shook his head. "No, there's no point in risking it. You know Craig. Once you piss him, you'd better run."

He nodded. "I guess we can just wait it out. The cops won't be here for awhile, but they'll probably be fine."

They sat in comfortable silence. Both just wanted to go home and relax for once. Even now, when they were away from the hospital and in an house, they couldn't relax. Not knowing that their friends were still in the place with three psychos.

* * *

Butters watched out the door, concentrating hard to see anyone go by. So far, nobody has even went down the distant road. Worriedly, he kneading his hands together. They weren't really stealthy about their escape, so there was no doubt the killer would find them.

In the midst of his thinking, he hardly realized that there was something cold pressing against his head. His baby blue eyes widened in surprise. He slowly moved his head to look over his shoulder.

"Don't move." Dr. Lee sneered quietly.

The barrel of the gun on his head pressed deeper into his skull. Dr. Lee narrowed his eyes, finger pressing slightly on the trigger.

"This ends here." He sneered.

A sudden loud gunshot shocked Stan and Kyle.


	9. Gullible

"Butters!" Stan yelled as they rushed to get to the noise of the gunshot.

After they ran into the front room, they gasped.

Butters was staring down on the ground, at a bloody body. The body belong to Dr. Lee, who had a pained look on his face and a gunshot wound on his ribs. He wasn't dead, but he was in a lot of pain. Considering there was a gun in Butters' hand, pointing down at the doctor, the two could already piece together what happened.

Butters had shot Dr. Lee.

Stan stared astonishingly down at his body. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. He never realized that Butters had the balls to shot somebody, not even in self-defense. He was impressed. Kyle, on the other hand, was suspiciously piecing things together. He narrowed his eyes and the 'innocent' blonde in front of him. Everything in his mind pieced together and he realized something important.

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" Kyle asked.

Butters smirked. "No."

He pulled the trigger and, this time, shot the doctor right in the heart. Stan jumped back in shock of the sudden loud shot. Butters kept shooting, making sure the doctor was completely dead. Once he was, the blonde smiled evilly and raised the gun up to the two.

"You were always the smartest, Kyle. It's no wonder you figured it out first." He said strongly.

There was an anger in his voice that the two had never heard before. Butters was always the shy and small type; he never talked bad about anyone or stuck up for himself. But now, he was the one with the power. The one looking down on the two in front of him.

The blonde gestured the gun at the dead body of Dr. Lee. "He also figured it out, along with Kenny. So, they both had to die."

Kyle stepped forward, ready to tackle him. "You bast-"

That's as far as he got before a shot rang out and a bullet slammed into his leg. He was shocked at first that it only felt like it only felt like a punch. But then, a burning, ripping sensation took over his whole leg. He screamed loudly, clutching his wound.

"Fuck!" He yelled, staggering backwards.

Stan grabbed Kyle's arms and held him steady. Then, he looked at Butters.

"You fucking asshole!" He screamed, not holding the anger for Butters and concern for Kyle from his voice. "What the fuck is wrong with you!"

Butters stared into Stan's angry eyes with a calm, but scornful look. Kyle wiped the pained tear out of his eye before glaring up at the blonde.

"What does it feel like, Kyle?" Butters with a contempt attitude. "Being in pain while somebody looks down on you."

"Fucking…bastard." The redhead seethed out, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg.

"He never hurt you, you FUCKING dick!" Stan screamed, gripping the redhead tightly.

"Doesn't matter. He looked down on me." Butters raised the gun to the black-haired jock. "And so did you."

Instead of shooting though, he flicked the gun towards the door. "Go, both of you. We're going back to the hospital."

The two resisting stood still, but when Butters finger pressed the trigger tighter, they moved. Stan kept his grip on Kyle as he leaned on him and limped. They could feel the gun's barrel pointed at them, with a finger rested teasingly on the trigger. Both of them tried to ignore the fear creeping over them as they walked out the door.

* * *

In the driveway was a SUV, belonging to Dr. Lee. They watched and waited as Butters opened the trunk. Kyle leaned against the house's fence to remain standing. Stan kept a hand on him, gripping tightly. It was obvious that both were scared as Butters walked over to them.

Without a word, the blonde lifted the gun and slammed it into the side of Stan's head. The jock fell on the ground while Kyle screamed in shock. The redhead fell to his knees, ignoring the pain in his thigh, and grabbed Stan. Butters hit him right in the temple, knocking him unconscious. Kyle glared up at Butters, as he stroked where the black-haired boy just got hit.

"Get up. Therapy is not over yet." The blonde said smiling wickedly.

Kyle looked at the gun pointed at Stan and gingerly stood up. The blonde then pointed to the car.

"Put your boyfriend in the trunk. We're leaving." He commanded, smirking at the 'boyfriend' part.

The Jew swallowed and limply picked up Stan. He staggered forward, weakly carrying Stan along, and laid him down in the trunk. He was very carefully, trying not to hurt or discomfort Stan in anyway.

Butters slammed the trunk close, narrowly missing the Jew's hands. He flicked the gun at the passengers' seat and Kyle understood. He delicately walked to the door, glared at the blonde one last time, before climbing in.

Butters got in after he saw Kyle close the door. He kept the gun pointed at the red head as he closed the door.

"What now?" Kyle seethed, glaring at the blonde. "Are you going to kill us, like Kenny!"

Butters smirked. "Not entirely."

And with that, he slammed the gun into a pressure point on Kyle's neck, causing the redhead to fall backwards. He hardly felt anything before darkness surrounded him. The last thing he saw was Butters smiling evilly down at him.

* * *

"Wake up, Kyle." A soothing voice called out to him.

The redhead's eyes fluttered open, revealing two curious emerald eyes. He looked up, seeing Butters in front of him. They were in one of the hospital's rooms. The florescent lights bounced off the pure white walls, hurting his newly stirred eyes. Kyle then looked down at his leg. It was throbbing painfully.

Reality hit him like a stack of bricks and his eyes widened. He tried to move out of the metal chair he was sitting on. But, unfortunately, There were tight chains wrapped around his arms, legs and chest. The ones on his chest wrapped around the chair. The one on his wrists and ankles were tied to the arms and legs of the chair. There was also tape around his mouth, muting him from anything but a mumble.

He struggled against the restraints as Butters walked up to him, hands held innocently behind his back. His face was worried, etched with concern.

"A-Are you okay, Kyle? You look scared." The blonde asked in his normal, distressed voice.

Kyle screamed something with fury and fear, though it was muffled by the tape.

Butters harmless facade was replaced with an evil smirk. "You should be."

He walked over tray rested on a table. There were many items, mostly sharp or pointed. This alone made Kyle's heart sped up even more. There was now a new coat of sweat that shined his face. Drops of the sweat ran down his face, gliding easily of the duct tape on his mouth.

"Fear is not an uncommon thing, Kyle." Butters said, toying with the scalpel on the table. He reached past the sharp objects and grabbed a newspaper article. A familiar title was on the top. '_A hospital visit gone horribly wrong.' _

"This guy, Travis, didn't go to the hospital for revenge. He went because he was scared. He had autophobia; he feared being alone. He didn't want his wife to leave him, so he tried to scare her into staying. After her death, he got so paranoid that he went back to hospital and demanded they bring his son back. When they couldn't and demanded he leave, Travis took hostages. He wanted them to feel the same pain he did. So he put them through their own personal hell. He gave into the insanity."

Butters looked over at Kyle, who was now starting to hyperventilate. "I guess you can say that I'm on my way to that. But I wasn't a pussy like him. I'm not going on a rampage killing anyone in my sight. I'm killing the people responsible."

Kyle glared, heavily trying to push his fear down. But once Butters pulled on latex gloves, he felt his fear rise. His face visibly paled and he felt dizzy. His muscles tensed, feeling rigid and sore. Vomit rose in his mouth as his stomach churned. Unlike before, he knew he couldn't escape. He was chained down, unable to drop the fear this time. He now had to face it.

"Travis also wanted to kill himself. Because he was alone at the hospital, the fear rose and rose until he picked up a gun and put it to his head. Of course, the paranoia was too much for him. What if I'm alone in death? What if there will be no one there? So, of course, he didn't shoot. He _couldn't _shoot because he was so fucking scared to. Sound familiar." Butters asked, the resentment and evilness in his tone was foreign to the Jew.

He leaned up and harshly pulled the tape from Kyle's mouth. It didn't sting as much because of the sweat, but it was still enough to pushed his head over. He glared up at Butters as he panted harshly, trying to get the large amount of air that breathing through his nose didn't get.

The blonde smirked at the feeble glare. "You all always thought I was the stupid, naïve one, didn't you. It's pretty ironic isn't. The gullible ones, are you. You couldn't see that for all those years, all those _fucking _years, of making me do things that you didn't. Of looking down on me because I was "weak." You guys didn't seem to think that you were being tricked. You are idiots!"

"Why are you doing this." Kyle breathed out, hardening his glare.

"Revenge. It's as simple as that. You morons need to be punished."

"F-For what!" The redhead yelled. "For pushing you down? We do that to everyone! Everyone else takes it like a man!"

The blonde's smirk fell and he leaned in close to Kyle. He slammed his hands on the arms of the chair, narrowly missing Kyle's hands. The Jew jumped and recoiled.

"You're not being punished for pushing me down. Everyone can take that! It's part of life; it makes you stronger. As I said before, I'm punishing those responsible for making my fear take over." Butters growled.

He leaned upwards and grabbed the scalpel on the tray. "As you know, I'm not afraid of the dark. That was just a cover-up to get me into this hospital; and make me seem disreputable. But there is one thing that I am afraid of, and you guys created and thrived on it."

He lifted the scalpel, seeing Kyle wince. "And because of that, you all deserve to die."

And with that, he plunged the scalpel into Kyle's skin.


	10. Loss

Kyle sat on the chair, covered in blood and panting heavily. He had cuts and stab wounds all over his body. The were bleeding badly, staining his shirt and skin. It was bad enough that there was pain everywhere, mixing with the smell of copper. But it was his fear that had ripped him apart.

At one point, he was so scared that he had turned his head and barfed. Every time he seemed frightened or unable to endure fear, he ran off. He walked away and left the problem behind his back. But right now, he couldn't move. He was still chained to the chair, unable to walk away, or move, as Butters cut him apart. And the only thing he could do was scream and try to escape the restraints.

Butters paused after slashing the scalpel across the Kyle's cheek. He seethed at the pitiful boy as he screamed in pain and fear.

"You're so pathetic!" Butters yelled as he sliced Kyle's chest. "You're so scared you haven't even thought once about your precious boyfriend!"

Kyle's eyes went wider as that fact settled into his head.

"Where's Stan! Is he okay?" He screamed, furiously trying to escape.

The blonde smirked. "That got your attention, hasn't it, Kyle? Stan's fine. For now, anyway. Actually, I'm quite surprised he hasn't woken up from all your screaming."

Kyle looked at his with wide eyes, confused. The blonde smirked and grabbed the metal chair he was sitting on. He twisted it around easily, as if Kyle wasn't even sitting on it. Now, the redhead was staring the opposite direction, at a body laying on an operating table. He gasped when he saw the face of Stan Marsh. He was still asleep, his head facing the ceiling.

"No." Kyle whispered, feeling his heart speed up more than before. "Stan. Stan! Wake up!"

Butters walked over to the unconscious jock. He leaned down, supporting himself on the edge of the operating table.

"It's funny, why people are afraid of things." The blonde smirked, running his hand through Stan's black hair. "It what happened in the past that makes this person afraid, but that's not all of why they are. Terrible things happen to everyone, but fear starts with one thing. One distant fear, collides with another. And that's how you get a phobia."

Kyle glared at this, but kept listening.

"Craig afraid of mirrors because he's afraid of showing emotion. The day he started bleeding and screaming in front of his reflection, it wasn't because he was afraid of the mirror itself. It's because he was afraid of seeing himself show the expression of fear. He's scared of emotion that he shows."

Butters' hand slid down and rested on Stan's cheek. "Kenny is afraid of death because he's afraid forgetfulness. For some reason, he's afraid that one day, he'll die and no one will remember him. He's more afraid of people forgetting him than he is of death. It's just death that brings it on."

Butters hand was now on his neck. "Stan is afraid of heights because he's afraid of karma. He thinks that since he pushed that car off a high bridge, that the girl will come back and kill him from a high place."

Butters had slowly slid down to an inch away from Stan's heart, right where the knife had pieced Ike. The blonde smirked at the pained expression on Kyle's face. "And you, my dear friend, are scared of loss. Ike was really close to you after he grew up. He followed in your footsteps and tried to be like you. You loved you brother."

Butters reached behind him, into his pocket, and pulled out a knife. It was a simple kitchen knife, a little smaller than the one that killed Ike. Kyle swallowed.

"You're scared of sharp objects because one of them stole him away from you. You were always worried about your friends dying. You were always scared one would be taken away from you. And once you realized that death is as simple as one single sharp object, you panicked. You were afraid of them because you knew that one could kill _everybody _you loved."

Butters moved his hand and replaced it with the tip of the knife.

"What are you doing?" Kyle whispered, staring at the blonde in horror. "What the FUCK are you doing!"

"I'm testing you. If you don't save him, he'll die. If you do, I'll leave here and never see you again."

"You twisted _fucker_! What the fuck is wrong with you!" Kyle pulled against the chair, trying to break free. "Don't do this!"

Butters slapped Stan's cheeks lightly, trying to wake him. The black-haired boy groaned and his head lolled a little. But he didn't wake up completely.

"Stan!" Kyle yelled, trying to get the boy's attention. "Stan, please! You need to wake up! He's going to kill you! Stan!"

"Let's see what happens..." Butters said as he watch Stan's eyes slowly flutter open. "when your worse fear comes to life."

He pushed the knife into Stan's chest. Said boy gasped, fully awake now. As Butters slowly pushed the knife in, Stan screamed out in pain. Blood dripped from his mouth, slowly forming a puddle on the bed underneath him. After the knife was all the way in, Butters wrapped his hands around Stan's arms, keeping him from trying to take the knife out.

"No!" Kyle yelled, tears escaping his eyes. "Stan! Stop!"

He struggled against the chair, wishing that he wasn't chained up. Stan's face was mixed in painful agony and he was slowly turned red. He tried to thrash around, but the loss of air and blood was getting to him. He was slowly starting to die. More blood ran from his gaping mouth.

Once Stan's body went weak, Butters let go. The black-haired boy took quick breaths, but there was still blood running from his chest. The copper tasting liquid still clogged his throat, hardly giving him enough of breath.

Butters walked over to the hyperventilating redhead and grabbed the scalpel in his pocket. He smirked evilly, feeling the immense power over Kyle.

"Gah!"

Butters smirk immediately faded at the small, familiar sound. His eyes widened hatefully and he turned around. He only saw a fist coming his way. The familiar pain of being punched shot up his jaw as he staggered back. He scowled and looked up.

Craig glared at him, a fire in his usually emotionless eyes. He punched Butters again and again until the blonde was away from Kyle. Then, Tweek ran from behind him and went to the Jew. Immediately after Tweek pulled the chins off, he shot up and ran to Stan.

Stan forcefully grabbed his hand, slowly fading out. Kyle wasted no time as he jumped onto the operating table. He straddled Stan's hips and grabbed the knife's hilt. Images of Ike, bleeding and dying came into his mind. His brain was telling him to pull the knife, but his fear took over. Even as Stan's eyes were closing.

"Somebody help!" He screamed instead, looking back at the others.

But they were gone. Craig had led Butters out the door in a fight and Tweek had followed, just in case. Kyle was all alone, staring at his fear right in the face.

"Please, Stan." He whispered, gripping the knife. "I'm scared."

Tears fell off his cheek, dripping onto the bloody knife. The water slid down the knife's blade, mixing with the blood. He stared at this with wide eyes, realizing just how pathetic he was being. He was sitting here watching as his best friend died. It was just like before. He couldn't do anything. In a flash, he remembered what he had told Stan earlier. 'Stan, I know what you're going through. But this isn't just your life you're risking. You're risking _ours_. If you don't jump, I don't jump. Then we'll both die.'

"No." Kyle whispered, anger sudden pouring into him. "We're not going to jump! You're not going to die, Stan. I promise."

He placed a small kiss on Stan's bloody lips, not caring about the metallic liquid. Then, he gripped the knife, ignoring his fear, and pulled it out.


	11. Bang

"Tweek!" The blonde spaz heard behind him.

He shrieked, nearly dropping his coffee before turning around. Kyle was running towards him, covered in new, bright blood. He was suppose to be in the room with Stan. So, why was he running at Tweek in a different room.

"Tweek, where's Craig?" The Jew asked, stopping in front of him.

"Gah! He-He went to get that Travis guy." Tweek answered, shaking. "He told me to stay here! Nngh!"

"Travis?" Kyle asked, suspiciously. "He was suppose to get Butters."

"He did! Ahh! He's right over there." The twitching blonde pointed over to the corner of room.

Kyle followed his finger. He narrowed his eyes when all he saw the corner was an empty spot. If there wasn't a streak of fresh blood across the white wall, he would have suspected that the younger male was lying to him.

"Oh god! He's gone! Argh!" Tweek screamed, dropping his thermos and pulling his hair.

Kyle grabbed the overly twitching blonde. "Tweek! Calm down! Listen, I need you to do something important."

"Oh, oh Jesus… What- nngh- is it?"

"I want you to go back to Stan and take care of him. I stopped the bleeding, but he needs medical attention. The police are on their way here and when they get here, it's your job to get Stan to them. Got it?"

"Gah! Bu-But that's way too much-"

"Pressure. Yeah, yeah. I know." Kyle interrupted. "But right now you need to help Stan. I'm going to find Butters and kill that son of a bitch. Okay?"

Tweek hesitatingly shrieked before nodding his head. "O-Okay!"

"Great, now hurry. Don't let him fall asleep!" The Jew pushed him towards the direction of the room.

The blonde screamed slightly as he ran down the hall. Kyle ignored him and he turned back around. He looked at the door leading to the room next door. As he glared at sadi door, he slowly reached behind his back.

Kyle lifted his shirt slightly and grabbed the hilt hidden underneath. Then, he pulled it out, revealing a blood covered knife.

"You are going to die, Butters." he seethed promisingly as he put his other hand on the door knob.

He slowly opened the door.

* * *

"Oh Travis!" Craig yelled, anger coursing through his veins. "Get your bitch-ass out here!"

He slowly ran the scalpel he had picked up along the wall, small sparks flinging out. Obviously, he was pissed off. He had never felt so much anger and frustration course through his veins. It was exhilarating, but terrifying at the same time. It made his lips twist up in an unusually evil smirk. He felt so alive. Or confident.

"Come on, you pussy!" He yelled at the invisible enemy. "If you think your so tough, why don't you stop cowering behind your boyfriend doctor and show yourself!"

He suddenly heard a thud from the room beside him. He stopped walking and narrowed his eyes at the door. It could be a trap. Quickly, Craig weighed the risks over in his mind. And he decided to take that chance.

He opened the door and pushed his way in, closing the door behind him. It was pitch black, making it impossible to see. There was no sound, except for his breathing.

Suddenly, the bright, blinding florescent lights flashed on. He hissed at the new light, but kept the smirk on his face. Said smirk fell when he looked up.

He _knew _it was a trap.

* * *

Kyle calmly and steadily walked into the room, being as quiet as possible. He didn't want Butters to know when he was going to attack or even that he was looking for him.

From the blood drops on the floor, he saw that Butters was seriously injured. Craig must have done some pretty good damage to him. Kyle was okay with this, considering he was still having seconds thoughts on killing Butters. He didn't feel sympathetic or any bullshit like that. He just starting to overcome his knife fear, and he didn't want to relive what happened.

"Damn it!" Kyle heard suddenly.

He quickly ducked behind the nearest thing, a long cabinet of doctor's equipment. As quietly as he could, he sneaked a look towards the noise.

Butters was sitting on the ground, a deep scowl on his face. He was difficultly wrapping his upper arm in gauze, where there was a deep slash. He held the end of the gauze in his teeth and ripped it.

Just as the young blonde was looking up, Kyle turned his head. He stared straight ahead, unconsciously stroking his knuckles across the sharp blade of the knife. _He didn't see me right?_

A loud bang rang out and the metal cabinet he was leaning on suddenly shot forward. Kyle gasped before pushing himself out of the way, just in time to see the cabinet fall. He looked up at Butters, who had the gun pointed at him.

_Yeah, he saw me._

The gun rang off the second time, barely giving him the time to comprehend what had happened. He threw himself to the side, narrowly missing a bullet. Like before, he had no time to react before another gun shot had rang out.

An intense pain shot through his body, making his clenched his eyes shut and grid his teeth. He kicked the cabinet hard, jerking it forward. It hit Butters' shin, making the blonde fall and drop the gun.

Kyle wasted no time. He ignored the burning pain in his shoulder and grabbed the gun. Just as his hand touched the metal though, it was also grabbed by Butters. The two jumped to their feet, both gripping the gun between them.

Butters unexpectedly kicked Kyle in the stomach, making the Jew reel back. He hissed at the added pain in his stomach, but ignored it as he came face-to-face with the barrel of the gun.

"Goodbye, Kyle!" Butters said, smirking.

He pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

* * *

All around him were mirrors once again. The same palpable fear clutched him as his stomach sunk. It wasn't the same room he was in last time. This time, he was in the exact place the phobia started.

Craig was in a mirror maze.

* * *

There was a strained, semi high-pitched scream in front of him. Kyle opened his tightly clenched eyes in curiosity. He stared in horror as a twitching blonde clasped in front of him.

"Tweek?" Kyle asked, flipping said boy over.

The spastic teenager now had a bullet wound in his stomach, the red blood already staining into his poorly buttoned shirt. Tweek's eyes were closed tightly, tears glistening on his cheeks. He was twitching ten times his normal rate and the coffee in his thermos was spilling on the floor in front of him.

Butters stared wide-eyed at Tweek. The coffee-addict was his closest friend, other than Pip. He was only one out of the five that had been nice to him. They knew everything about each others; fears, loves, secrets, interests. They were really close.

But now Butters watched wide-eyed as blood stained his friend's shirt.

"T-Tweek…" He whispered, shuddering.

He didn't have time to drop to the floor and check on the boy. Kyle was already tackling him onto the ground. The Jew punched Butters in the face repeatedly, finally having the upper hand. The blonde was too stunned and scared to even care to bring the gun up. Every time his head flew that direction from Kyle's punch, he saw his best friend bleeding.

_What have I done? _He asked himself, tear falling from his eyes.

* * *

Craig took a numb step forward. His brain was trying to convince him that he wasn't in a mirror maze. He wasn't staring into his fear-etched face at every turn. He wasn't looking into his reflection, trying to weave his way through the maze to find his way out.

He wished he hadn't closed the door when he came into the room, for it had looked behind him. He was alone with his fear, just like last time. But this time, he wasn't trying to break through it. Right now, he was trying, and failing, to calmly find his way out.

He turned, coming face-to-face another reflection. He flinched at the terror in his own features. He was suppose to be strong; to never show his emotions and act tough.

But he wasn't tough. Never in his life was he tough. He always ran away from things that intimidated or scared him. The only reason he liked boring was because nothing scared him when nothing was going on. He was scared back in third grade when he had a fight with Tweek. He was scared in forth grade when they were sent to Peru. He was scared when he entered this seminar. He's always scared; always looking for a way out.

But now he couldn't. He couldn't look back and say he was done. It was just like last time.

All he could do is try and overcome his fear.


	12. Concluding

Sorry if this took longer than normal. I have been busy lately with a new story i'm making.

**By the way, i can NOT express how much i love all my reviewers!**

* * *

Craig kept his eyes closed, feeling around like a blind person to see which way to go. He didn't trust himself enough to watch his feared reflection anymore. He knew that if he kept staring at the mirrors, he was going to breakdown like last time. So instead, Craig was feeling his way around, thinking about anything other than mirror.

He stepped through another opening and quickly searched for the next. But all that his hand came in contact with was smooth glass, on all sides. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was the three mirrors on every side of him; he was at a dead end. The second thing he noticed was he wasn't alone. He quickly ducked out of the way as a knife collided with the mirror in front of him, shattering it quickly. Craig gasped and stared wide-eyed behind him. It was Travis.

The man dove at him, ready to punch. Craig was about to duck out of the way, and then run. But he caught his eyes in the reflection beside his head. His usually emotionless face was full of fear and agony. It made him hesitate. That fear that boiled inside him quickly turned to pain as Travis' fist slammed into his stomach.

The air around him grew heavy as he reeled back and slammed his head against the shattered mirror. He felt the broken glass tear into his skull, sticking in through his hat and into skin. His legs shook and he fell to his knees. After clutching his head in pain, he saw another reflection of himself.

_Blood. _His heart skipped a beat. _I'm bleeding. _His face was twisted in agony, making the fear only boil more. His throat clenched as tears started forming. _I'm numb again._

He was too scared to realize that Travis was pulling the knife out of its stuck position on the broken mirror. The killer then looked back down at the teen. Behind his mask, a twisted smile lifted on his face. He loved seeing them so scared they cry. It gave him a sick pleasure watching them spend their last moments in complete agony.

He lifted the knife, aiming exactly for Craig's head. Once stab in a certain place will kill the boy slowly. And he could watch himself as he gradually died of blood loss.

Just as he was about to bring the knife down, a sharp, agonizing pain shot up his leg. His scream was muffled by his mask as he looked down in anger. Craig's scalpel was now buried deep in the killer's thigh. The blood was showing up easily through the white pants he had on. Travis looked up just in time to see the boy run from the dead end section.

Craig ran quickly into any opening there was. He didn't care about where he was going or the fierce memories that flooding his head. He needed to get away from the murderer. He could see his tear stained face as he ran pass mirrors. There was blood on his hands and on the back of his neck, dripping from his head.

The glass shattered and shook as he suddenly collided with a mirror. He felt more glass run across his forehead, defiantly making a huge cut. He fell onto his butt, and then looked up at the damage. Blood ran down his face, mixing with the tears. He didn't feel a thing, just like last time. He was, once again, numb.

He looked up, half expecting to be dead. He'd rather be in Hell then sitting in a mirror maze. But instead, he came face-to-face with himself. He looked exactly how he looked the day he got lost in the mirror maze. The memory made his blood boil in both terror and anger.

He gasped in fear when he looked farther up the mirror. Travis was standing above him, knife raised in the air.

_This is the end. I'm going to die. _The fear faded into something more comfortable; he was tranquil. _Please, just get me out of here. I don't want to go on with this. Just kill me._

Everything felt like it was in slow motion as Travis started bringing the knife down, aiming for his head.

_I don't care about saying goodbye. I don't care that I'm letting everyone down. They can deal with it; they're strong. I'm weak. So weak that I can't even keep my promise with Tweek. _

Once the name of the certain spastic blonde flashed through his mind, his body worked on its own. He suddenly flew back, slamming his back into Travis' knees. There was a sick, loud crack as the killer fell. The sound made Craig brake out of his daze. He grabbed the knife that fell onto the floor. Then, he stood up and looked down at Travis.

_Tweek… I'm _**not **_giving up on you this time. I'm _**not **_letting my fear take over while you are still in this fucked up place. _He thought as he lifted the knife above his head. _I made a promise. I promised you that I would be back; that when I return both of us will leave this place together._

"I'm not giving up on you, Tweek." Craig promised out loud as he brought the knife down onto the killer's back.

Before Travis could even utter a scream, Craig pulled the knife out and stabbed the man again. He kept repeating this as he smiled evilly. There was no more fear in his mind, just the sick feeling of being alive. The same thrilling, adrenalizing sensation from earlier coursed through his veins. Even as blood splattered on his face, he couldn't stop the smile from growing.

With one last stab, Craig stood up. There was blood everywhere; on Travis, himself, the mirrors, and the floor. The adrenaline stilled pumped through his body, giving him an extra boost. He decided to hurry and get out of the maze before it was lost.

Before leaving, he turned Travis onto his back, a puddle of blood already forming around him. Then, he gently reached down and pulled off the mask. Craig blinked, confused. The killer had tears on his cheeks, yet there was a huge smile on his face.

_All he wanted, this whole time, was to die? _Craig realized sadly. He half smiled, putting Travis' mask back on. _I know the feeling._

And with that, he turned and walked out of the mirror maze. There was no fear; no heart pounding terror that coursed through his veins. He was calm, maybe a little bit happy. There was an ironic smile on his face.

_Maybe we're not so different after all._

* * *

Kyle's blood boiled in his veins as he wrapped his hands around Butters' neck. He couldn't think straight anymore; much less even comprehend what he was doing. The only thing that guided him was the rage. Stan and Tweek both have been hurt by Butters. And Kyle couldn't take it. He snapped.

Butters clawed at Kyle's hand, trying to escape and get a breath. But it was no use. Because of his newfound brute strength, Kyle was not going to budge. The blonde felt his lungs burn in the pain of not being able to get air. His eyes water as they stared into Kyle's hateful ones. He knew he couldn't last any longer without air. A comforting feeling overwhelmed him as his eyes closed.

Suddenly, there was a hand on Kyle's shoulder, pulling him off the blonde. Without the pressure on his throat, Butters sat up and coughed, trying to get air back into his lungs. The angry filled redhead growled and looked back at the person.

Craig stood above him, still covered in blood. He had a glare on his face, as if he was a mother scolding her son. Kyle took a moment just staring at the black-haired teen, wondering what he did so wrong. The redhead looked over at Butters, who was still trying desperately to get his breathing back in order. He slowly understood what he did.

Kyle turned his head back to Craig. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to choke him! But after he shot Tweek, I-"

Craig's eyes widened at that. He ignored the apologizing Jew and looked around. When his eyes finally rested on the blonde, he ran to him. He fell to his knees and propped Tweek up.

"Tweek, are you okay?" He asked, even though he obviously wasn't.

Tweek opened his eyes hesitantly. When he saw Craig, he immediately started whispering crazy thoughts about dying and infection. The black-haired teen just sighed. If he was still able to ramble on, he wasn't in total agony. So, instead of listening to the blonde, he looked for the bullet wound.

When Craig found the tear and spot of blood in Tweek's shirt, he lifted up it up to see the damage. Luckily, it wasn't just a bloody hole where the bullet slammed into him. Instead, it had gouged a deep groove in the blonde's side. The bullet had barely missed him. Once it scrapped him, it threw it slightly off course, thus not hitting Kyle either.

Craig pressed Tweek's shirt to the wound, holding it there to stop the bleeding. The blonde flinched at the pain, but otherwise stayed still. Well, as still as the twitching blonde could.

"You kept your promise." Tweek whispered suddenly through the throbbing pain in his side.

Craig looked up at his face, slightly surprised that he wasn't spewing random thoughts anymore. He half-smiled at the blonde.

"I told you I would come back for you, didn't I?" He mumbled.

Tweek smiled weakly.

Kyle watched as Craig picked up Tweek. He then nodded at the Jew, silently telling him he was getting Tweek out of here. Without a response, he ran out of the room with the blonde.

About a second after they left, Kyle heard a distinct click. He blinked at the familiar sound and looked over at Butters. Said blonde was standing up now, gun pointed down at the redhead. Instead of the earlier evilly playful smirk, his face only showed anger.

"You shouldn't have done that." Butters growled, all of previous teasing from his voice was gone. "I would say that now you are going to die. But you were going to die from the beginning, Jew."

Kyle narrowed his eyes at the familiarity of the insult. A certain fatass popped into his mind. Suddenly, everything became clear.

"Cartman. He got to you, didn't he!" The redhead yelled.

Butters shrugged, a smirk spreading onto his face. "Maybe, but he's not the only reason I'm doing this. I told you before, you all deserve to die." His finger pressed down slightly on the trigger. "And I'm going to get the pleasure out of doing so. Goodbye, Kyle."

The redhead didn't have time to run. He didn't have the time to jump out of the way and save himself. All he could do was close his eyes and wait tensely for the final blow. He could feel the gun's aim exactly on him and it made him shiver. He knew death would hurt and that he would probably never see Stan again. But, at least he wouldn't be afraid anymore. Maybe death is the only way out…

_Bang!_

Kyle heard it before he felt it. After the shot echoed across the room, he waited for the pain. He waited for the bullet to run through his head, hurting for only a second before death would take him over. He'd die and go to hell; there's no way he'd get to heaven.

But this never happened. There was no pain; no sweet surrendering death that allowed him to escape. There was nothing.

He opened an eye in curiosity. Butters still had the gun pointed at him, finger still on the trigger. But there was no evidence that the gun had gone off; no smoke afterwards showing that the bullet had actually left the barrel.

Instead, he only saw Butters face, mixed in shock and pain. This image was replaced by the blonde falling down onto his butt and then gripping his thigh tightly. Kyle blinked, looking at the new bleeding wound on Butters' upper leg.

Kyle then saw a person standing in the doorway, halfway hiding with a gun pointed at where Butters was. The man was wearing a dark blue button up shirt with black pants. He stepped fully into the room, gun pointed at Butters, who was now glaring at him. The man then grabbed the walkie-talkie hooked on his belt and lifted it to his mouth.

"We found him with the target." He said gruffly.

Kyle sighed in relief. The police were finally here.

* * *

**_A week later…_**

Kyle walked through Hell's Pass hospital, watching as doctors walked by him. He was still healing up from the gun shots in his leg and shoulder.

He stopped at a room and gently opened the door. Kyle peeked his head in, his eyes landing on a certain black-haired boy in a hospital bed.

"What's up, Kyle?" Stan asked, noticing him immediately.

Kyle smiled and walked fully into the room. "Hey."

He sat in the chair beside Stan's bed, looking at the teen as he sat up. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, actually. They said I might be able to leave here soon. Although I have no idea why they had to keep me here in this fucking hospital extra."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Because you got stabbed in the chest, idiot."

Stan crossed his arms. "So?"

The redhead smirked as Stan smiled down at him.

"So, how's Craig and Tweek doing, no one ever tells me things."

"They're both fine. Craig is still trying to make Tweek calm down a little. He's more paranoid then usual. But Craig's not afraid of mirrors anymore."

Stan nodded. "And you're not afraid of knives?"

Kyle shook his head. "Nope. You?"

The jock looked over at the window. "I'd be lying if I said I was totally cured of the fear. I mean, I still cringe at the thought of the girl. But I can actually look down when I'm up high."

"That's good; you're getting there." The redhead murmured.

Stan nodded. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Kyle stood up.

"I need to go; mom's been on my ass all week about what happened." He laughed quietly.

Right when he turned to leave, he felt a hand grab his wrist. He blinked, looking back around at Stan. The black-haired teen silently waved his hand as if to say 'come here.' Kyle rolled his eyes before he crouched down to listen.

"What?" He asked amusingly.

Suddenly, there was a hand on the back of his neck, pushing him forward. Without another word, Stan pressed his mouth to the surprised Jew. Kyle's eyes went wide at the sudden lips moving slightly against his. The shock was short-lived as he started to respond to the kiss. Gently, Stan licked Kyle's bottom lip, silently asking for an entrance. Kyle slowly parted his lips meeting Stan's tongue with his own. Stan pulled Kyle down a little farther, turning his head to get a better angle. The redhead moaned in approval.

After a few more moments of their tongues dancing together, they gently broke away. Stan smirked, looking into Kyle's half-lidded eyes.

"See you tomorrow." He said.

Kyle also smirked as he stood up straight.

"Goodbye; hope you feel better."

* * *

The End

* * *

**I hope you liked it! **


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